


No Car for Beth

by Sintina



Series: No Cars [2]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Reunions, Episodic Follow-ups for the Rest of Season Four, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, F/M, Lot of Bad Language, Romance, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth is not kidnapped. Daryl finds her in the road. During and after "Alone". </p><p>We follow the two of them as they make their way to Terminus, together, and their relationship deepens.</p><p>Chapters respond to final episodes of Season Four, including the finale. Spoilers, for sure!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Car for Beth

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, Slow Burners, there may be some heat-of-the-moment mini-smut after they escape their predicament in "Alone," but it's still Beth and Daryl. Promise! 
> 
> I believe, once Daryl and Beth have a mutually acknowledged attraction, like they do in the kitchen in "Alone", they go for it- much like Glenn and Maggie. But unlike Glenn and Maggie, these two have hang-ups and issues. It takes a few attempts and conversations to really get it together! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Daryl called her name, panting, running to their meeting spot. Out of danger at last, the heat of the moment before the dog interrupted them was hot on his mind, his lips, his loins. Now, she might be gone. His mind raced over their time together. 

Two weeks since they burned the shack down. They grew closer day by day. Craziness, unexpected and inappropriate under any other circumstances, but there it was. You can't spend so much time alone with a member of the opposite sex and have her looking at you like that all the time and not get aroused. Ever since they'd been at the funeral home, since holding her hand in the graveyard, it was clear. He wanted her and she wanted him right back. They'd put off discussing all this, or acting on any of it, at all. And at brunch, the best he could come up with to say was that good people exist, maybe? They should live in this house together... maybe?! 

He cursed himself. They'd been acting like they had all the time in the world! Well, he'd been acting like that. Beth was more assertive. In that genuine Beth kind of way. The walkers were dead. He'd find her. He called her name again. Again, got no response. No. She's out there. They'll meet and get back to the house... and... he smiled to himself. It's gross and it's wrong, she's a kid, she's probably a vir... he shook it off. The road. Walkers between here and the road? He clocked a walker with a hard swing of the butt of his crossbow to its skull, barely breaking stride.

What if she's gone? What if she got bit? The fuck was he gonna do? He couldn't lose her now. Not like this. Not before they'd even talked about it... let alone... She can't be gone. He made it through the brush to the road. 

She was sitting there, clutching her knees like a child, staring at the trees, waiting for him. Had she been crying? He took advantage of the fact she'd not spotted him yet. He came up with something funny to say to cheer her up. He wanted to look confident, like he wasn't worried about her at all. What would he have done if she hadn't been there? Nevermind. He mussed his hair a bit, to get it out of his eyes. He straightened his shoulders, adjusted his crossbow to his back. Daryl stepped out of the bushes. 

\------

Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. Oh god. Every foot fall as she ran through the house, hearing him fighting and shouting instructions behind her, every footfall was his name. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. God... please... not Daryl. Her heart began to pound his name as she climbed through the window, just as he ordered, clinging to her bag of loot from the country club and everywhere since. 

Daryl. Daryl... she stopped in front of the house, scanned it for him leaping out of a window, around a corner, something. He could be on the other side... running towards the meeting spot. She needed to be there, waiting for him. She ran. Her ankle was ablaze, but she ignored it. That look in his eyes just before the dog and walkers came to the door. She licked her upper lip, biting it, unconsciously, as she ran. 

I can't believe he looked at me like that! I can't believe he... he... Daryl. Oh Daryl. Please. Her face was flushed from more than the running when she reached the road. He's not here. He isn't here! Where?! She twists and turned in every direction, searching the ditches, the trees. There was no noise. No sound of the dog. Just the road and the slight rustle of trees. Daryl. They were going to kiss. She was going to kiss him! Or he was going to kiss her... and he wanted to live with her! They could have fallen asleep that night holding one another... and God how could she be thinking of this now? Now when he could be dead! Daryl... dead. The very words were too much for her in that moment. 

She sobbed like a kid. Like a scared little kid. And she immediately hated herself for it. Daryl made you better than this! Daryl needs you to be strong! What if he's hurt? You'll have to take care of him. Shit. Standing still so long made the pain flare up her leg from her ignored ankle. Her hip almost gave out at it. She cried for real now. There's nothing for it but to wait for him to come. 

She sat in the road, hugged her knees, rocked back and forth, taking pressure off her ankle for a second and stared. She stared at the tree line, the softly swaying brush. She stared in the direction of the house he, not more than 10 minutes ago, suggested they share together.

Beth thought of everything they'd been through since the shack and the moonshine. All he'd taught her these last few weeks. He talked so much more than when they first left the prison. How he was more open. How he laughed or joked or smiled more. And last night, how he fell asleep to the sound of her playing and singing. And she stole a kiss, quick brush along his lips as he lay in the coffin, like Snow White in reverse. This morning he'd carried her into the kitchen like a groom carrying his new bride! She wanted so badly to just have something more with him. It was the end of the world. But more than that. Since the prison, it'd been the end of everything! And with him, she wasn't lonely. With him, she could momentarily forget all she'd lost. With him... she could live. Not just survive, but live. And that's what he'd just offered! That they live together. 

Beth cried and cried into her knees. 

\---------

When she looked up and saw him there, Daryl knew from her face it'd be some cheesy love story moment. He's the brave dashing prince or some shit and there she is, his princess. He'd never been a romantic. Never felt like a hero. But she looked at him like that. Like some fucking knight in shining armor she must have always fanaticized about when she was younger. She looked at him like a true, blood and guts hero. He didn't know what to do with that look of hers as she sniffled and stood, still, staring at him, smiling a huge, if unsure, smile. He had to say something...

"That's it! We ain't having comp'ny round for dinner again, girl," he stamped his boot, "Put my foot down 'bout that right now!" He tried to smile, his hands on his hips in a mock scold. She let out this noise like a sob and his guard was immediately broken. He didn't mean to hurt her feelings! But the sob was a laugh and she ran for him. Daryl made it two steps, and barely stretched his arms wide before she's there, leaping on him, with her bad ankle and everything! She groaned at the pain of jumping in his arms. He lifted her up around his waist as she had him in a full body hug, clinging and choking him a little.

"Hey. Hey. Don't hurt yourself, stupid," he whispered into that big braid in the back of her ponytail. She laughed and winced again and hugged him tighter. He stroked her hair, his fingers tangling and softly untangling those silly blonde girl locks. She's lighter than yesterday, somehow. Easy to hold like this. He could just carry her back to the house.

_________

She pulled her head back to look at him. It's now or never. So excited to see him. She doesn't care about anything else. He looked at her and smiled a little. She kissed that smile, quick and hard and off center, like the nervous teenager she was. And pulled back just as suddenly. He opened his eyes. 

Yep. This was happening. Apparently, they didn't need to talk about it. They'd survived. They were alive. Time to celebrate. To accept what apparently both of them had already decided, yesterday, last week... just now in the kitchen. He smiled at her again, more sure this time. He didn't give a fuck about all the problems anymore. Fuck it. She's obviously into it. Be a man, damn it. He took control, slid his hand up her back to her neck, pushed her neck in and her face to his. It's fast and unexpected for her, she let go and opened her mouth to his. 

She was in shock as he kissed her. Total shock. He tasted dirty and there's grit in their kiss. Plus those awful vinegary pigs feet. She tried to kiss him well. He felt nothing like Zach or Jimmy. She pulled back and looked away, embarrassed.

"Hold on, Beth," he breathed. He stroked her back, supporting her, as he turned toward the house. And as her crotch dug in above his belt line, her thighs tightened around his belly, Daryl replayed all the thoughts he used in sixth grade math class to avoid getting a boner in front of the hot teacher. He saw those thoughts to the exclusion of all else, as her breath whispered along his neck, giving him chills. And her fingers played at massaging his shoulder blades, just barely under his winged vest. Her little breasts were pressed into his collar bone. Not so small as he once thought. Grandma in the shower. Dead puppies. Walkers. Walkers. Merle. That'll do it. He thought of Merle, worse, of zombie Merle. The sadness rolled over him, his face hardened.

She felt it. "What's wrong? I'm sorry! I know... I can't be very good... I mean... kissing you... I just..."

"Shhh. Don't do that. Hush." They're not going to make it to the house. His dick just said so. He can't think of zombie Merle enough. Beth occupied his entire mind and body. He was honestly embarrassed how much he wanted her. He was so relieved she was alive. 

And he's got to comfort her. That too. He knelt with her, set the crossbow down. They were off the road, in the brush, not even in sight of the graveyard. Ever vigilant, he did a quick assessment of the spot. She looked around too, mimicking him. He clasped her face in his hands to stop her. 

He's not good at any of this either. That's what he wants to say. 

But instead he just looked at her, holding her face, as they knelt there in the woods.

She breathed heavily. Scared. Exhausted. Excited. She leaned in to kiss him again, because he's just staring at her and she wanted to break that stare. He held her back. Ran his hands through her hair. Fine. Fuck it. The truth. Whatever.

"Look. I ain't too good at any of this shit, either, okay? So you don't have to be all innocent and worried. A'ight? Not like I was chasing tail or some stud or whatever..."

"Yeah." She breathed. She smiled again. Relieved. More assured. This was Daryl. He may be a grown man and much more experienced. But he was a shy man, an insecure man. A man she needed to show how much she trusted him, wanted him. She pushed her face through his hands, kissed him softly and closed lipped. He reciprocated. He is so gentle! How is Daryl Dixon so gentle?! She smiled and kept it up, emboldened. Her hands reached for his chest and found his breasts, hard sternum, and... suddenly nipples. He exhaled and his tongue came out to tickle her lips and invite her to open them as she caressed and explored his chest. He took her mouth into that same forceful, intense kiss from when he held her earlier. They were both panting through their noses, rising up on their knees, into one another's bodies. He had a hard grip on her waist and one shoulder. The gulping kisses and pressure from his strength overwhelmed her and she broke back a bit.

He leered "Did I frighten you, Beth?"

She leered right back "You don't scare me, Mr. Dixon."

Then he really smiled a cruel, mocking smile, "Hate it when you call me that." Then, pushing her down, gently, guiding her descent onto the ground with the hand supporting her shoulder as he kissed her to her back, "And you're a bad liar, Greene." His mouth made its way to her neck. She lost all ability to do anything with her hands except react to him, by clinging to and crunching clumps of leaves and dirt in each fist. Her hurt ankle, she shoved out to the side, to avoid the pressure of his legs. Inadvertently this spread her legs wider than she intended... he pulled up at that.

"Damn girl. We're not even to second base yet."

"No. No... sorry... just," she laughed "trying to protect my ankle." He looked down at it.

"Oh yeah," shrugging "We'll take care of that again later,"

"Okay," she sighed. "You taste like vinegar and dirt, you know that?"

"You taste like fresh spring water on a warm day." Shivers ran through her body at the words. Daryl. Daryl her heart beat. And finally she said it out loud, no matter how corny. "Daryl. Daryl. Daryl." He responded with a deep moan, against her collar as he kissed lavishly. His hips pressed hers and she felt his cock for the first time, through his pants. He's hard. He's hard for me. Her pelvis twitched and muscles tightened and flexed repeatedly on their own. He responded pressing his hips into her more deeply and moving his mouth over her shirt to her breast. She gulped little gasping breathes as his teeth and tongue play with her nipple through the fabric. She whimpered, still scared, still unsure, deep down, that she can do this with him, that she can please him at all.

He felt it. Raised up. Stillness for a second. And both of them shivered with a cold breeze. "Hey, let's get inside, huh?"

She swallowed hard. Averting her eyes. "Yeah. It is getting cold and the ground is hard."

"Right."

She looked up at him as he rose, she fumbled for what to say... "Um... to be continued...?" she asked.

"That is entirely up to you, little love," and he took her hands to help her up.


	2. The Problems for Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately following last chapter, no time has passed, but a few heart beats, between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why doesn't this work out right away? Because of who they are.

Somehow, this was better. He had one arm wrapped around her butt, holding her right thigh against him and the other hand on that cross bow to keep them safe. She wanted to whisper his name in his neck as he carried her back to the house, but that was stupid romance novel stuff. Daryl was a grown man. There's no way... she had no idea how to be sexy! What just happened was so awkward, so silly and ridiculous, the way she started it, hobbling at him in the road. Then, oh god! The way he set her down in the woods when she got all pouty. Was that just a pity make out session? Then she thought of Carol again, as she had so often lately as Daryl got closer and closer. Carol was effortlessly sexy and charming whenever she was around Daryl. Carol had 'fuck me' eyes. I can't even start to make those kinds of eyes or gestures! I've never had sex, like Carol has, I don't know... Her heart was pounding. Plus, I'm just a kid to Daryl. He respects Carol. Why am I thinking about Carol like she's still alive? There's no way to know. She sighed.

"You all right up there?" he asked, his words growled in his chest, she could feel his words against her torso.

"Thank you Daryl," was all she could muster in a weak voice.

"So, how many of them did you kill?" He wasn't being sarcastic or making fun of her. He was serious. He set her down on a curved, concrete bench in the graveyard, next to a broad tombstone, his attention on the house. Looking it over, making sure it was safe to go back.

"I did get one, actually. Well, two. I squashed one in the window, as I crawled out of the house and killed one with my knife between the house and the road." 

"I knew you could handle yourself," still scanning the area, not looking at her, "Wasn't worried about you. Knew you'd be there at the road." She saw in his eyes- he was making light of the fact! He'd actually been scared he wouldn't see her at the road; not because he didn't trust her, but because they'd been in an overwhelming situation together... again. She took the bait.

"You're a bad liar, Dixon. You thought I was walker food."

He smiled. Then looked away. Embarrassed, maybe?

"I was worried about you. Not because I thought you couldn't handle yourself..."

"Why then?" This was just like the conversation about believing in good people in the kitchen. They were flirting again! He was nervous again! Oh my gosh. He looked her dead in the eye.

"You know why," with such gruff certainty and finality. She didn't know what to do with an assertive Daryl. A real man. She'd only dated a few boys. No one ever looked at her like that, not ever. 

\---------

He saw he'd intimidated her. Fuck. What now? She's got those damn eyes, all insecure and shit. No other way to break that tension. He rushed into a kiss, quickly, holding her face in his hands, gently kissing her closed lips with his tongue and mouth. She let out half a dozen quick little breathy sighs at once in a shudder. He hadn't heard that noise in years. Maybe not ever. Not like her. Not like this. No one he'd been with was ever really uncorrupt and guiltless like her. His mind flashed through a decrepit old slideshow of one night stands, Merle's cast-offs and backwoods slutty bitches who were coarse and fast. Most of them were wanna-be strippers. Half of them were drunk or fucked up. He never felt like he could break a woman before, if he wasn't careful. But Beth. Beth may shatter in his rough hands.

"Oh.. don't stop..." she complained adorably as he stood away. She smiled. He cocked an eyebrow at her sudden bravery. Distracted by a sound in the distance, his demeanor shifted.

"Can't stay here tonight. We have to move. Gather up that redneck brunch and get out of here," scooping her up to carry her back to the house as quickly as possible.

Once inside, it's clear neither was ready to go anywhere just yet. So, exits were secured, clanging can alarms reassembled and brunch packed up, after eating a bit and rehydrating. They sat on a sofa together. Fell into it, actually, in an exhausted heap, her legs draped over his, comfortably, like she'd always done that. Without any more words, and only a few more steaming glances, they're kissing again. It felt dangerous, unsafe to stay here. They can't do everything now, can they? She pulled away, gasping his name. "What?" he responded.

"I... I totally want you, you know..."

"I know," he smiled, his hand running the length of her leg.

"No... I wasn't finished."

"Hmm?" kissing her neck.

"I want you to be my first!" she blurted awkwardly.

"I know," he planted small puckish kisses along her upper chest, her collar bone, above her breasts, deliberately avoiding the main swell of them. 

She tensed. "I'm that obvious?"

"Yes," more kisses, not looking at her, "Doesn't bother me," then he rose away, "Unless it bothers you. We can slow down or something."

"I don't know. I can't decide. I mean, I want to, but then there's like my dad and.." she wanted to say Carol, but she couldn't bare to see his face, "...and how much older you are and all this stuff..."

"...That used to matter," he finished her thought. He'd been thinking it himself all these days since the prison. Thinking about how young she was. He never even fucked a 19 year old when he was 19! Or in his fucking twenties. Always older women. Like Carol. Shit. Don't think of her. She's out there, though. Alive. He's glad Rick kicked her out now. Since she missed the horror they all went through. Beth. Focus on Beth. He's old enough to be her... He inhaled hard, raspy. She looked away, confused and thoughtful. He straightened up, getting her attention.

"This short, shitty life we've got now," a grunt, "Either way, whatever this is, going on here, this is worth it. Worth seeing through," He paused, looking at her, "You agree?"

"I really do, I mean I really want to. I mean, I'm just some stupid kid, right? I don't know what I'm doing."

"I think you do."


	3. From Place to Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the mortuary, Daryl and Beth avoid houses for a while, making campsites the norm again.  
> She's ready to settle down in a spot, like Daryl had suggested back there.  
> He's used to being on the move and the mortuary's got him spooked of stopping anywhere too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natural progression on their journey towards Terminus and towards each other. 
> 
> Enjoy! And let me know what you think. <3 <3

Slipping through the trees, barely making sounds on the floor of leaves, she followed him. He'd stop and she'd stop. They were in sync; been like this for days since the house and the cemetery and the one-eyed dog. Would they set up camp again tonight? Or was he heading somewhere else he knew, like the moonshine shack? They were sort of following the road, just not out in the open. The road stayed to their right, a ways off, through the brush. You could make it out sometimes, other times not. They didn't talk while they moved. Her mind went where it always did; to him on her. 

Back at the house, the make out session ended so abruptly that night. Why had they stopped? Dang it. She was such an indecisive kid sometimes! I've got to think better of myself. Be more assertive. It wasn't this hard with Zach! With him it was easy, he was a stupid kid just like her. Daryl was such a... such a man. He was too much for her. But that's the kind of thinking that's got to quit! 'I can take care of myself, he's making me strong. Daddy's dead, no trace of anyone else, Daryl can be my man. I can be his woman. I've got to be strong in this way too, not just killing zombies and finding food and setting traps, I've got to grow up and stop being afraid of sex. I want to have sex with him. It's okay to want that. It's okay for him to want it too. We're adults. It's the end of the fucking world. Daddy liked Daryl. Daddy respected Daryl. Everyone loves and respects Daryl. Or they used to. There's no problem here. Not with him anyway. So, I've got to get over my own stuff. I've got to get my head right. Tonight, maybe, we'll try again. If nothing happens, if we're safe.' 

\--------------------- 

Daryl reached back behind him with a cautionary hand every time they needed to halt progress, and she did stop, wordlessly, every time. He was glad she wasn't running off on her own or being ornery anymore. The night at the graveyard house made a difference. He could trust her to stay where he could see her, be a partner, rather than someone he had to look out for all the time. This was good. He'd been tired of baby sitting after they left the prison, before the moonshine. It was rough, too, though. The moonshine and the mortuary and everything since. Made it harder to ignore the fact that she's not really some dumb teenager. The less she acts like a kid, the more he sees her as a woman, the more he wants her. Never taken anyone's virginity before... not exactly comfortable with that. No matter how much she thinks she wants it. It's all that damn hero-worship she's got, doesn't make it right. 

That's not what he thought back there, though, after they almost didn't get out alive. Was that all just adrenaline that made him so bold with her? Probably. He couldn't go after her again now. Hadn't been able to these past few nights at the campsites. Too conflicted. Too much else to do, to pay attention to. Not safe anyway, just screwing around in the open in the woods. 'Fuck me if a walker comes up on me with my pants down! Never gonna happen. So, no point thinking about it, unless we get some down time again.' Shit. Should they just keep moving so he didn't have to deal with her... physically... again? Could he keep putting her off this way? He shrugged. Worked so far. 

Merle was in his mind a lot. Merle was responsible for most of Daryl's prior conquests. That same old slideshow of loose and low women. None of them with a backbone or a personality. None of them firebrands like Carol or little whips like Beth. Merle always made fun of him, anyway, even if he did get with a girl. He was never good enough for Merle. Nothing he did. Nothing was worthy of not being ragged about all the time. Sex was probably the worst, though. Anyway. 

There was a gravel road, heavily warn. A sign used to be at the beginning of it, connecting it to the main road. Trees were thin on both sides and you could see through to a clearing. Trailers. Maybe a dozen of them. 

"Looks abandoned," Beth whispered. 

"Damn trailer parks. Nothing good in there. We should keep moving." 

"We need supplies. Whatever they have will help." He couldn't disagree with her. So, they made their way straight along the gravel, it didn't roll under their foot falls as all the stones were pressed into the dirt. Daryl scoffed; cheap, lazy landlord's asphalt. But it was flat and at that, he noticed how much more easily Beth got along. 

"Need a new splint or anything for your ankle?" Not like medical supplies were typical trailer park finds, but you never knew. Might be some of these had boy scouts in the family. 

"Nah, it's been getting better every day. This splint is great. Thank you, again." 

He raised a hand to quiet her and they did a perimeter check, keeping in eyesight of one another, in a quick circle around the large lot. Ten trailers in two rows of five. The last one on the end of the further row was a double-wide. It sat at an angle to the others, off to the side a bit. Daryl motioned towards it. Beth nodded. He noticed her stance, then, just like he taught her, keeping her gun up and knife in the gun's supporting hand, blade outward, blunt side resting along her forearm. She looked hard. Ready to kill. He was proud of her. Also sad that those eyes didn't radiate innocence the way they did last year. He took the four steps leading up to the double-wide's back door in a single stride and tried the door knob. She stood at the bottom of the rickety wooden stairs, facing away, at the woods, ready for anything that might come into the clearing. Daryl whistled when he opened the door. His usual "I'm a human being, walkers can't whistle" announcement, in case any humans might be in there. Beth loved that. It was great. He knocked on the wall three times. Nothing. He motioned for her to follow and they took a look at the place. 

Daryl was pissed they’d stopped here. He should have just told her ‘no’. Thought he was supposed to be leaving his old self behind, right, Beth? So what in hell was he doing in a God damn trailer park? Everything reminded him of pa, Merle, childhood, of the people he used to tool around with. The smells, especially. Two years since the fucking end of the world and a trailer park still smells like piss and smoke and grease! How is that!? He wanted to burn this place down like the other one. Another effigy to his shitty youth. He stomped around, once they were inside.

\------------

The kitchen, living room, dining room and hallway were all one long room. Beth had never been in a trailer before. There’d been a single wide attached to the back of that moonshine shack, but they never went in, just used the shack and the shed outside, before burning it all down. It felt bigger inside here than she’d expected. It was, actually, much bigger than the interior of the moonshine shack. She could see how people lived in a place like this. It wasn’t so bad as all those “trailer park” stories you hear. 

The kitchen was separated from the main area by a bar, like a half-wall between “rooms.” She set her bag down on the bar and smiled at Daryl. He seemed distracted as he went through the cupboards. 

“Cans of shit… no can opener, I bet,” throwing open the drawers, one, then two at a time, rattling the contents. 

“Daryl? What’s wrong? You’re being too loud!” 

He ignored her, but stopped slamming things around. Too late. 

“Who’s in there?!” came a slurred, high-pitched drawl from outside. They froze. 

Beth ducked below the bar just in time as two shotgun blasts tore spray holes through the thin metal wall by the front door. Lucky they'd come in the back. The front door and the spray were a few feet to their left. Daryl raised up in a crouch and glanced out the back, no one there. This idiot came after them alone. 

"Git outta my land! This here, all o this here is mine!" And the man outside fired another loud explosive shot in the air. 

"Dipshit." Daryl whispered, "He's liable to get pellets in his own brain, coming back down." Beth slid a bunch of canned food into her pack, and crawled for the back door, and out, very quickly, down the stairs into the tall grass outside the clearing. She lay low on her stomach. She couldn't see the "dipshit" because the trailer was skirted by plastic siding all along the bottom. He must've been alone. Nothing between them and freedom! Then she heard the all too familiar wheezy growl. She rolled over and saw three of them coming out of the woods. The whole place would be surrounded soon with all those gunshots! 

"Daryl! Walkers!" and she got up and ran away from the three coming towards her, off in the opposite direction of the main road, and through the trees. There was something out there, a makeshift fort or a pile of debris or something, she made for the cover. She heard Daryl's long strides not far behind her. The thing in the woods was a bunch of old rusty cars! And a tractor and some big truck tires, all sort of clumped together, like a private junkyard. She dove between two of the cars, treating them like a wall between her and the walkers. It worked. Most were focused on the man firing more shotgun shots, anyway. About a half dozen followed her. She stabbed two as they reached across the rotting car hood. One of them stabbed itself through, tripping over a tire and getting skewered on what looked like an old metal chain-link fence pole. Daryl charged up, picking off the last three with knife and crossbow bolts. Retrieving the bolts, he bounded over the first car, into the cover with her. They had the tractor to their back. Crossbow cocked, he circled around their small fort, checking for walkers around them. 

They knelt down as screams echoed from the dipshit in the trailer park, getting overrun, for sure. 

"They'll be eating him for a little bit. He was a big 'ol boy," Daryl said, sounding way too smug and satisfied for Beth's liking. 

"I want to get out of here," she said, tugging at his crossbow. He glared at her. 

"Never should of checked this shithole out in the first place," snapping, and pulling his crossbow out of her hand. She was genuinely hurt. 

"Look!" she hissed, quiet as she could, "I just wanted to stop somewhere for a while. Not forever. Just... you know... like you said at the mortuary?"

He looked around the small clearing in the midst of the junk heap, "Might as well stay here. Everybody had one of these out back where I lived. Rednecks never throw shit away." 

"Are you serious? We should stay here?" 

"Better than most of our campsites in the woods, lately. Least we got a wall," he gestured around them "Let's lay low and see if the walkers move on after eating him." 

Fewer had showed up than they expected, considering all the noise. They lay there still in the junk fort for almost an hour. And those walkers did, in fact, move on in a small hoard down the gravel road, further and further away, across the main road and out of sight. Daryl sat up, proud of himself. Beth was still unsure. 

"If we're going to make camp here, shouldn't we just go inside one of the trailers instead?" 

"You think it's safer in there? That's a damn sardine can death trap, girl!" he flung up his hands, as he always did when he was mad, "Not enough ways in and out! Here, we can hear 'em coming, see 'em coming. We got lots of ways to escape." He glared at her as his temper lowered, then looking around, surveying, "I'm gonna set up the sound alarms around us. Lots of scrap around here we can use that'll make a bunch of noise. Pull some strings out of those cars' seats." She didn't argue. She just hoped they'd find another house someday. But they were staying away from suburbia for some reason. Daryl liked it better out here, she guessed. Whatever. He was being fucking moody. She snorted to herself as her mind joked: 'He just needs to get laid.' 

Man, if she only had the balls to say that to him. 

\----------------

In addition to few long threads from the cars' upholstery, there was plenty of chicken wire laying in clumps all around, which Daryl loved. 

"You can use chicken wire for everything, like duct tape." They did. They made short fences out of the more complete batches of wire; used thin strips of it as "rope" for the clanging cans alarm system. It was pretty handy. He was feeling great about their little fort. Even pulled one of the bench seats out of an old pickup and presented it to Beth. It made for a good couch in the center of their "wall" of cars and tractor. She could make a fire pit there, in front of it, as well. She smiled up at him. The plush in their new couch was all shot up. Someone must have fired into the truck at one point, to kill something or someone in there. She poked her fingers through some of the holes. 

"Seems appropriate," she smiled up at him. She took off her boots and testing out the new furniture, bounced on it a little. He didn't miss the jiggle of her body, eyeing her openly. He'd gotten over the trailer park crap. He was comfortable out here in the woods and the old cars. He was feeling good enough to make a move. Man he was starving, though. He reached over and stroked her hair, from her forehead to behind her right ear. She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. 

"Not going to be any game for a couple miles round here, thanks to all the damn noise." He lifted her chin to look up at him, "Wait on me a few hours. I'll find some dinner." 

She gave him her most disappointed look. Then smiled. Gotta be confident. Here goes. 

"I guess so," but she trailed her good foot up the inside of one of his legs "You don't have to go far. I'm fine with squirrels and snakes and whatever," her toes made it close to his crotch, teasing him, she twirled her ankle a bit, making a little circle on his inner thigh. This was totally working. She could see a devilish look take over his face as he watched her. 

"You trying to play me, sweet thing? Think I won't fight back?" and he grabbed her by the ball of her foot, pushing it away from him, but kept it erect, stretched out, straight up, resting the heel on his belt. He glided his fingers over the skin of her ankle, between her sock and jeans. Then, he slid just two fingers under the tight jeans at her calf, imitating the movements he might make if his fingers were inside her. With his other hand, he rubbed her leg, over her jeans, as far as he could reach. Gripping here and there to make her squirm and tense up. 

"Oh, Daryl! You win! You're way better at this than me!" And she reached up and pulled at his hips, to bring him down. 

"Nah. You're the one got me going," and he did bend down, holding her leg and positioning it around him as he got on the bench seat with her, careful of her splint ankle this time. His first move was to get his pelvis right between her legs. Let her know how crazy she made him. Damn this girl is hot, running his hands over her shirt, over her whole torso. She arched for him, tightened her leg on his backside, pressed his hard cock, practically ripping through those jeans, against her crotch. She was warm, he could almost feel her tingling even through her jeans and his. He smirked and chuckled knowingly at her, embracing her, hands under her shoulders, his mouth on her neck, sucking her skin. 

"Ow! Oh! Ahhh..." she complained, then gave in as he left welt marks around her neck and shoulder. She clung to his back, tugging at his vest, getting under it, over his shirt, massaging his muscles, getting a few claw marks in, even through the fabric. "Daryl, Daryl.... this is awesome," she sighed, breathless beneath him.

Then he lost his concentration, heard something, smelled something, reminded him of where they were, what they needed more than this. Didn't feel right. Immediately thought of Merle calling him a pussy, dickless... and all arousal vanished with that voice in his head. 

"Got to go get food," he said to her surprised face, raising up, "Really. Let's eat a can or two from that trailer, then I'm gone for the afternoon," She slumped down as he released her, untangled himself from her somewhat roughly and all too quickly. She was speechless with hurt and frustration. She pouted as he handed her some chips he'd grabbed in there. "Eat," he commanded. And she did.


	4. A Room with No View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Weary and waiting on the right moment to close the gap between them, Daryl and Beth have got a bed now... what happens next? 
> 
> The song she sings is by Casting Crowns, I don't own it and I use it with great reverence and thanks to the people who wrote, produced and play it. Also, maybe since I'm 4 chapters deep, I can say the old "I don't own the Walking Dead nor any of its characters" line; I just love imagining their stories a little less sad!~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent the night and morning figuring out exactly how this story is going to play out. Maybe 15 chapters. I'll definitely be adding more characters to the tag list! Exploring how the dynamics of the whole group change, once they meet up again. Everyone will see the new Beth and Daryl, the battle-hardened badass couple they're going to be by then. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos! Whenever I'm not writing, I'm reading your stories too! Love, love, love all of your Beth & Daryl works. See you soon~ Sintina.

They'd found a bed. That was good. The shot-up truck seat sofa, the cold ground, over and over, they'd been making out in the most uncomfortable spots. She'd insisted, finally, after their fifth night in the junk heap fort. She'd worn him down with direct and indirect promises of what might happen between them if they could find a real bed. She was getting so much more confident, feeling like a woman who could be his woman, should be his woman. 

The two story house was the most boarded-up in the neighborhood, with train tracks running along the back of the property, behind a little fence and a bit of trees. They'd gone over and over the ingress and egress routes. Planned the ways they'd run if something happened, where they'd meet up... on those train tracks. They'd set up perimeter alarms, eaten, found a small stash of bottled water in the attic, of all places. Daryl found some brown cigarettes he told her were called cigarillos. He went out back, on the back porch, to sit and smoke. Now Beth was alone in the bedroom, with the bed she'd so longed for. 

The stress and constant struggle since the prison, hell, since the funeral home, weighed hard on her. Three nights back, Daryl noticed how little she was sleeping and laid the truck seat down on its longer side, seat back flat on the ground. He hadn't said anything, just gestured for her to join him. The two of them could just barely curl together on it, but he drew her in close. Part of his body and one leg slumped onto the ground, but most of him was on the seat with her. It was the first time they'd slept like that, him holding her. She didn't know if he slept. But she sure as hell did, with his heavy breathing and strong arms and warmth. She woke up to find she'd turned and buried her face against him, clinging to him with her whole body. It was the first time in a while she hadn't woken up freezing. 

After sleeping together broke their general tension, they'd finally hashed out their argument over the trailer park. She felt so stupid for not realizing he was having a similar reaction to old memories there as he did at the shack they burned down. He reassured her. Not her fault, he said. But she promised no more trailers in the future. In turn, he apologized for the way he basically celebrated that man with the shotgun's death. 

When Daryl described the guy to her, for she'd never seen him, the image in her mind was that of Otis. She reminded Daryl that Otis was a good man, a sweet and kind man, a hard worker on her father's farm for as long as she could remember. Sure, he was a fat hillbilly, too, like their attacker, and maybe he could be a "dipshit" sometimes, too. But Otis was a good man. There's no way of knowing if the guy they'd let get killed by walkers wasn't just as decent before all this, right? Daryl apologized again, profusely. He remembered liking Otis okay. 

To make her feel a bit better, Daryl told her the guy who fired at them was drunk and had probably already given up on life. There's no other reason, Daryl figured, for him to attack blindly by himself with a shotgun and basically all the ammo he had left. He was trying to commit suicide, basically. They used to call that kind of thing "suicide by cop" because some guy would do something stupid, just wanting to get shot and killed by the police. While that didn't cheer Beth up at all, she nodded and they raised a glass of water, took a drink, to the memory of their unnamed attacker turned rescuer. For, as Beth said, he'd basically saved them by distracting all the walkers. He'd died for them and their safety, even if he didn't know it. A lot like Otis did for Carl's medicine. Beth was sorrowful thinking of Patricia and Otis and others they'd lost along the way. She sang a sad religious song by the campfire that night. Daryl didn't like thinking about God or any of that, but he liked her singing so much, he asked for an encore. 

"I'd have thought by now,  
Lord, you would have come down,  
And wiped our tears away.  
Stepped in and saved the day.  
But once again, I say 'amen' and it's still raining.  
As the thunder rolls, I barely hear you whisper  
Through the rain: 'I'm with you.'  
As your mercy falls, I raise my hands  
And praise the God who gives...  
And takes away..."

She choked on the last line. Daryl crouched down behind her. Wrapped her in his arms. Sat on the ground and curled his legs around her, so she was basically in his lap. 

"Where'd you hear that?" he asked. 

"Christian radio," she sniffled, "Plus, they sang it at youth group at church." 

They didn't say anything else the whole night. She just cradled herself further into his arms and finally started to cry just a little, before passing out in a deep sleep. 

Things were fine between them since then. She got bolder. They made out again, in the bed of the pickup, this time. Pine needles had tangled in her hair and he'd gingerly picked most of them out for her after. It was high school making out, though. Clothes on, no skin on skin, she'd gone further with Zach. Hell, she'd gotten felt up for real in high school! But now they had a bed. Now she might finally be his woman. She'd make him her man. Who was she kidding? Make him? Please. All she really had to do was not chicken out and hope he'd see this was okay. It wasn't wrong. He kept tensing up like it was a sin or something; kept stopping them. She lay flat on the bed. Damn it was comfortable. She rolled in the sheets a little bit, luxuriating in the feel of real linen on her skin. Should she take off her clothes? No. If they'd gone further by now, maybe. But she half expected that if he came in here and found her naked, he'd turn around and walk right back out again. She smiled. Gosh, he was so hard to figure out. 

\-----------------

Daryl sat in a creaky metal rocking chair, looking out over the railroad behind the tree line. He blew a long, slow, trail of smoke into the setting sunlight. Cigarillos were too damn sweet. But maybe he wouldn't taste like smoke for her, or she'd like the sugary, syrup smell these damn things had. He scratched himself. Readjusted his junk, so it didn't stick to the inside of his thigh. He rolled his eyes up in the direction of their new bedroom. Fuck. What was he going to do? 

He kept thinking of Hershel. Of the look on his face if, say, Daryl had been thinking of banging Beth back at the prison. Maggie and Glenn and how they'd admonish him. How he'd have stormed off in frustration. Hell. None of that would have happened. He never would have touched her under any other circumstances but these. His mind fluttered over the few weeks they'd spent together so far, just the two of them. 

"You're gonna be the last man standing," she'd said. And, "You're going to miss me when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon." The memory of the words stung deep in his chest and his stomach tightened at the pain. He would miss her so much. She'd fucked him up proper. He was vulnerable now in a way he hadn't been since he was young, much younger, when he and Merle had reunited after he got away from Pa. He ached a little, uncomfortable in his own thoughts and took another long pull off the sweet tasting, sticky brown cig; blowing it out hard and heavy. 

Maybe they would've gotten together at the prison. If things had gone the way she'd fanaticized. Glenn and Maggie having a baby, Hershel growing old... it stung again inside and he pushed all those thoughts away. Maybe he would have been into her back then, as she got older, since Carol was gone anyway. Carol. The last time he'd cum with a woman. He rocked a little bit, adjusting his hips at the feel of her mouth on his cock in his memories. She'd climbed the tower to relieve him of guard duty and relieved all their pent up tension, too. It was a quick hot blow job and he reciprocated, finishing her with his fingers. And they never talked about it. Never made claims on one another or each other's time. Just eye balled each other ever since. Sharing a casual dirty secret that made them both satisfied. But shit went down not long after and Rick kicked her out. He sighed. Carol was alive out there somewhere. She loved both him and Beth, very much, he remembered. He quietly hoped she'd be happy for them, this night, forgive him and not be disgusted by him. Fucking a little girl... taking her vir... he couldn't even finish the thought, cringes ran down his body. He shook heavily, stood. 

She's 19. And she's older than I was when I was 19. A lot older. Smarter than I was too. She's done shit. Seen shit. She's a woman. She's been your woman these last few weeks. Teaching her to track and shoot, getting drunk and burning shit down, getting in close calls with drunks and walkers and never being apart from each other, except when he went hunting. That's how this happens. That's how she becomes just another woman and him another man. Another? Fuck. He pulled a hot inhale of smoke. They might as well be the last ones on Earth. He may never see another fucking woman again. And she wanted him. Damn, how that girl wanted him. 

'Hershel, wherever you are, give me your blessing, I guess, or whatever. Carol, I hope you found a better man than me out there. Maggie and Glenn, don't fucking hate me for this...' And he rubbed out the butt and flicked it far into the yard. Darkness was creeping in, the sun had pretty much set. He turned and walked into the house.


	5. The Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The goods. That's what's under his shirt, Beth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, you can skip this whole chapter if you'd rather imagine what happens or if you're not into smut.  
> The last chapter and the next one flow together just fine without it.  
> Thought of changing the entire story's rating just for this chapter. Thought better of it.  
> Chapter Specific Warnings: MPAA=NC17; Fanfiction= MA; Explicit; Not Rated; Naughty; Bad for you; Causes Cavities and Gingivitis; Adult Content; Adult Situations; Adults doing Adult Things like Adults; Inappropriate for non-adults; Turn Back Now or surely your own unique guardian angel will weep for your lost, sinful soul.  
> For real, though: totally consensual, M/F, of-age grown ups, graphic, detailed, no-no-parts on display.  
> Okay, I'm done. Couldn't resist. ~ Sintina.

She lit candles, not too many, but enough to see each other. A dim orange glow in the room with pale yellow walls and apricot curtains covering heavily boarded windows. No light would get out. She heard him come in from the back. Heard him sigh, scratchy, long. He coughed a few times, spit in the sink in the kitchen. Slowly, deliberately, he walked up the stairs, with heavy footfalls that made her heart pound. Was this really about to happen? Really? Her whole body was pumped up, keening for this, tense and tingling. Her cheeks were aflame. She could taste his tongue, his neck, as memories of other times flittered through her pores. He came into the room. Looked right at her. Looked tired, but sort of determined, too. The twinge of a smile at just the one corner of his face was all the reassurance she needed. He wasn't going to back out. Not this time. 

She beamed at him. Then sat on the bed, scooched up to the headboard. Adjusted herself down suggestively into the softness of the mattress, trying to be alluring and seductive, coming off looking kind of funny. He half grinned and rasped: 

"Who are you trying to _be_ , girl?" 

"One of these days, you're going to stop calling me 'girl' or 'little' or any of that nonsense." 

"Oh yeah? And why's that?" he sat down on the bed, sank into it and seemed annoyed how plush it was; then made a big effort of taking off his boots and thumping them on the floor.

"Because I want to be your lover, Daryl." He turned and looked at her, raised up on her elbows and sticking out that little chest of hers. Flashing her eyes, hair, neck and lips at him. What had she done? Snuck a porno in her bedroom back when she was a kid? He scoffed. 

"Don't do all that. It doesn't suit you."

"What?! Why?" genuinely hurt, scrunching her body up, away from him. 

"Look. You've got your own..." he stumbled on the words "You don't have to do all that crap from TV." 

"Oh," her head down, embarrassed. "Sorry." Silence as he made his way up the bed beside her, pulled the covers up and over him. 

"This is some fancy shit, here," unimpressed, "Hmph. Don't know if I can sleep like this." She rolled to smile right at him. 

"Then don't sleep," and she reached for his chest. He sighed appreciation as her fingers meandered his muscles. He leaned forward just slightly and kissed her soft and slow. She shuddered closer to him. Looking him in the eyes, she coaxed: "Take off your shirt." Her fingers ran under his vest and over his pecks, tugging at the fabric separating her from his skin. 

"No." He kissed her neck, her shoulder, moving cautiously. She sat up. 

"Why? I thought because we're somewhere safer, we've got a little more time, maybe we'd, you know," curling his slick hair with a finger as she said it, "actually take our clothes off?" He just looked at her. Resolute, but also just a bit sad, that unwavering gaze of his. "Please?" in a higher pitch "I want to see all those burly muscles I keep feeling. I want to touch them," and she darted her hands under both his vest and shirt, something she'd never done before. He'd never gone under her shirt either. 

She was ready to stop the chastity. His skin was slick like his hair. 

He recoiled and reflexively grabbed her wrists- too hard- pushing her hands away. 

"Ow! Daryl!" He shoved the sheets off and stood up, back to her. He teetered there a moment, undecided. Then he made a hard pace for the door. "Daryl! Don't! What happened?! I'm sorry. Look, I want to get undressed too, I want you to see me too, I could have gone first. I'm sorry!" She whipped her shirt over her head in a single motion. He saw her bra, small, frayed and stained, clinging to her nipples, aroused... for him... and looked away, toward the door. 

"Put your shirt on. I'm not... that's not what I..." angry at himself, he shoved the dresser hard and clattering against the wall. 

"Daryl!" she hissed, "Don't make too much noise. Please tell me what's wrong. What I did..." 

He wheeled on her, infuriated, "You didn't do nothing, a'ight?" his arms up like he might throttle something, "Just... Dammit!... I don't want you to..." She realized she needed to shut up and let him get this out, whatever this was. The best thing to do was sit and wait, patiently, quietly, no matter what she was feeling. She covered her chest with a sheet, brought it up near her chin and looked at him, longing, apologetic. His resolve broke looking back at her sad eyes. His shoulders dropped. And he turned away, resting his hands on the dresser, pressing his feet into the floor, flexing his legs in frustration. He sighed, eyes closed, and quietly, so she could barely hear: "I don't want you to see." She sat very still. What had she done to him? What was under his shirt? She was so sorry, now. She inhaled, as if to speak. He raised his voice, repeating "I don't want you to see! Okay?" The candles fizzled in the stillness of several moments. 

"You're beautiful." She said finally.

"You don't know." He muttered, gripping the dresser, refusing to turn to face her. Her, a perfect, amazing young woman; him, a mean, middle aged stupid hick. She crawled to the edge of the foot of the bed. Reached over to touch the top of his belt, just under his vest. He cringed. "No one's seen, 'cept Merle." The slideshow again, the other women either with him mostly clothed or in the very dark so they didn't see. And Carol, they had all their clothes on, that time. 

Beth tentatively slid a single finger under his shirt, at the small of his back, above his waist. 

"Don't," he sighed, giving in, "Beth. Don't. Just leave it," empty protests as he leaned against her touch. Her hand fully under his shirt, but just the one finger grazing his skin. She traced the first scar she came to. Very gently, very slowly. Chills covered his body. As she found her third or fourth, he let out a small noise and turned to face her, effectively removing her hand from the crime scene of his back. She was looking down. He couldn't handle the hurt he knew he caused, but before he could think of something to say, 

"You're still beautiful." At that, he lowered to his knees to look up into her face. The sheet was no longer covering her, and her breasts were close to him, under that useless old bra of hers. "You are so beautiful, all of you, completely. Daryl, you're the most beautiful man I've ever..." he leaned up and stole the rest of her words in his mouth, kissing her passionately and appreciatively. It was like freedom, hearing her say such things. He rose up and she rose with him, in the kiss, and he climbed onto the bed, with her, over her, kissing her. Beth had no idea what to do with this Daryl, this deep, expectant, excited Daryl. His hands roved her torso. He dispatched with her bra quickly. He let her undo his vest buttons and slide both full hands under his shirt, over his abs, his ribs, up to his shoulders. Soon, the vest had been laid gently on the night stand. It was dear to both of them. 

"Beth," whispering her name in her ear, one hand clinging to her hair in a large clump, gently pulling, the other fully engulfed her breast and massaged it, strong, but not too hard- a surface massage, rather than painful deep tissue she remembered with Zach that left her boobs aching for days. Daryl ignored her nipple for the moment, kneading her breast like a kitten at its mother's belly. She found his sternum and stroked it the way she might slide fingers over his cock. The gesture was not lost on him. He looked right into her, all of her in that gaze, 

"Lover," he called her and lowered his mouth to her neck again, slurping like he might a peach or an orange slice. As he moved his tongue over her nipples, she wasn't sure where to put her hands, afraid to cling to his back as she used to- didn't want to scratch his scars. She settled on his waist, rubbing her hands up and down from his hips to his ribs, over that sleek, tight skin, rhythmically, like his tongue on her nipple. He lowered his hips hard between her thighs, pressing in, so she could feel him. She arched up at that, gasped. Her thighs tightened on him, seemingly of their own accord, and he pressed his hips into her crotch again, with a guttural sound in his throat. 

This was it. Fuck it. This was what he wanted. Best part, he wasn't afraid to want her anymore. Age be damned, she's mine now. All mine. And he needed to take her, to get inside her and make this real. It was time. He kept urging that point with his hips. They weren't going anywhere until this was done. He knew she couldn't handle it. He knew he was getting what they both wanted. He knew he could satisfy her, make her cum, make her happy. He had more confidence and assurance in this moment than he could remember ever having. 

It became clear that he shouldn't be wearing pants, and neither should she. They'd dry-humped plenty these weeks since the funeral home. She'd felt his dick through three layers of clothing, raging to get out, raging for her, and then they'd have to bail for one reason or another. They were safer here. They did have more time. Wordlessly, they agreed upon this. And each reached to work their own zippers and buttons, kicking off the last stage of their separation in tandem. 

But Daryl was still wearing his shirt. Bare assed with a shirt on, he felt silly and chuckled at himself a bit. She didn't look at his manhood at first, focusing on the curvature and surprising smoothness of his butt cheeks, which partially faced her. She made no move as he decided what to do with his shirt. But her modesty kept creeping up on her, and she covered herself in sheets again. She'd never been naked with anyone and though this was her idea, she sort of got shy unexpectedly. 

Daryl noticed. "We're doing the same thing. Hiding from each other. For different reasons, I suppose." 

"Yeah," coyly, "you're right. What'll we do?" 

"Same time? No more shirt, no more sheet.. 1, 2, 3, go?" 

"Okay, yeah." She sat up, "Ready? 1... 2... 3... go!" and she pushed all the sheets off herself. She was cold and nude on the bed in front of him, as he pulled the shirt off slowly over his head. The exposure of his back shocked her, but she held in the gasp, barely. She managed a "How?" But he stopped her with a look. So, she moved her eyes elsewhere, lower, in the front. Damn. It was curving up and slightly inward out of a batch of hair slicked against his body like the hair on his head. She always pictured penises straight, like a board or a log, at an straight angle coming out of the body. She'd stroked Zach off in the dark, couldn't really see it, so she'd imagined it was straight. Daryl's curve intrigued her. She liked it. She reached for it. He thought of something, suddenly,

"Sorry if there's...uh... a smell," he shrugged "I mean, you've been with me, you seen how often I bathe." 

"You don't smell any different from me. I haven't washed since the prison, either. Everything smells like us. Like sweat and death and dirt. I'm used to it." 

"Real romance going on in here," he smirked and she laughed. It was an easy laugh, totally distracting from her nakedness. She felt better. She gingerly touched his cock, sort of poking at it, watching how it responded, like a separate thing with a mind all its own. 

He wanted to reach down and finger the hell out of her. He wanted to get to her clit and make her cum wildly. But she was new to all of this, clearly. He didn't want to move too fast. He wanted her to enjoy herself and most of all, he didn't want to hurt her when he finally got inside. He wanted it to be easy for her. He'd heard it wasn't easy for some girls, heard it hurt... a lot. He didn't want to hurt her at all. But did he have time to do everything right? His focus shifted to the environment. His ears perked to the sounds outside, downstairs, at the windows, the doors. There was nothing to suggest danger. Oh man. She had stopped playing with his dick like a curious puppy and was really holding it now. Shit. Oh shit. She stroked him a little. Raw. No lube or anything. Should he tell her to spit in her hand? Was that too crude? Would she? 

"Hey, hey, gentle-like..." he soothed, "And we need something wet." She laughed hard at that and, surprising the shit out him, put her hand between her legs and came back to his package with her own moisture, her own wetness. He smelled it. He smelled her. His cock pulsed in her hands as she rubbed it with her own fluids. This was too much. Way too much. And here he'd thought he'd be the one pushing her to a point where she couldn't take it. Fucking moron. She's probably wanted to get laid ever since this whole zombie shit went down. And if she's this wet already, she can probably handle him right now, without him hurting her, he guessed. But he wanted to be sure. He pulled her closer, full on skin to skin contact for the first time for both of them, and kissed her like he wanted to swallow her whole. The suction was new to her, but she got into it quickly and reciprocated by pulling his tongue into her mouth and sucking on it too, every time he released. They lay down kissing long, lustful kisses as their genitals shivered against one another's. This was really it. Nothing else to be afraid of. Nothing out there. Nothing in here. Just this. 

"Please, Daryl. Please." She gasped. 

"I don't want to hurt you. Here. Let me start this way," and he slid a finger easily inside of her. She was so ready, he was worried for nothing. But she was incredibly tight, all of her muscles tensed and hard and throbbing around his finger. He worried about that. She needed to loosen up a little. She groaned and thrust into his hand, repeatedly, as he pulled in and out. "Try to relax," he whispered in her ear, "Relax. Too tense. Might make it hurt. You understand?" She responded by sighing and her muscles did actually open up a bit more, giving him more room to move his fingers inside of her, as he'd widened her a little more with his middle and ring finger. This was better. She was heaving and clinging to him with all her limbs, almost seemed like she was crying, but it was just these sob-sounding exclamations he'd never heard before, not with any woman. Then he put his thumb between the lips at the top of her, fingers still working the inside, his thumb roved in little circles, looking for the spot. When he found it she screamed. "Shhhhh... shush... Damn, Beth" he stopped. 

"Don't stop! Don't stop," she hissed in the most quiet voice she could manage. 

"That's better, but can't be louder than that. We don't want to die here like this." 

"Why not?!" she cried, did seem more like she was crying now. 

"You all right? Sounds like you're crying or..."

"Yes, yes, please, it's happy, happy cries, it's so good, it's too much, I didn't know, I love this. I love it. Please, Daryl, Please... don't stop, do it NOW." She didn't have to ask him anymore. He took his hand away. He spread her legs wide with his knees as he lowered himself close to her. 

She got very quiet and still. She opened her eyes to look at him. He moved in very close, his hard muscular pecks flattening her tits. He kissed her gently, closed-mouth, a few short times. And began moving his hips, getting himself in position, finding her. She rose up to meet him, but that threw off the positioning, and he started again. He stopped just as he found the spot, the head of his shaft barely between the lips, right where he needed to be, right there, ready. She licked her lips, took a deep breath in and looking at him deep into the wells of his eyes for a second, she quickly closed hers again. He closed his too. Ever so slowly, he thrust forward just enough to be inside. Then he froze. Her breathing went deep and long and loud on his cheek, she hugged him tighter. Let me just hold you like this for a second and don't move, they both said to one another, in their spirits, in their loins, without a word. And they did. 

She didn't hurt. Not like she thought. It was a soreness, sharp, but not painful. Not real pain, this was like muscle pain after a workout, only infinitely more satisfying. Plus, there were so many other intense simultaneous sensations that she barely noticed the sharp sudden ache. The long stillness passing, he moved forward and inside a little more, a little more, until she felt his pelvis against hers, and his balls. How funny... she'd forgotten about those! The rhythm they reached was long and slow, with him exhaling deep and raspy at every prolonged thrust; her calling out in her muted cry every time he withdrew. Before too long, he reached a hand down between her legs, thumb in circles again. She gasped sharply, hissing, trying to be quiet: "What are you doing?!" 

"I'm gonna finish, and I want you to, too." He pulled out and moved up her body, to rest himself on her stomach, while massaging her clit as she very quickly climaxed, rippling under him and through him as he held her like she'd crumble if he let go. At the last second, he thought he didn't want her to have his cum on her body and not have anything to wash it off, so he shifted his hips and shot to the side, into the bed, aiming away from her fast. 

She was shaking and quaking and moaning and didn't really seem to notice, either way.


	6. Then There Was Glenn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My favorite Asian breaks up the Beth and Daryl show. 
> 
> Glenn's dragging a ragtag party of unknown allies with him. But there's one among them who Daryl immediately doesn't trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write!  
> That's why it's the longest so far.  
> I mean... it was one of those muse moments when the characters totally took hold of the story and ran with it, just dragging me along like that band of no-names behind Glenn. (I literally Wiki checked all their names- not ashamed!)  
> It's time to get the real band back together... and start the trek to Terminus!  
> ~Sintina

Glenn and the people who’d been following him this whole time hiked up the short incline made by the train tracks as they cut through the light trees, into the open air of a cul-de-sac. They’d been going non-stop for a few days, sleeping on or near the tracks every night. Glenn barely sleeping at all since he'd first read the sign beckoning him to Terminus. Maggie was there. Or she was going there. She had to be. He was only a few million steps down these tracks from her. He didn't need to eat or drink or sleep, just keep one foot in front of the other and he'd find her. Be with her again. Maggie.

About noon that day, Tara had stopped him, put herself physically between him and another foot fall. 

“Gotta find a place to sleep, _really_ sleep for once!” she demanded, imploring eyes, not giving him a choice. He'd taken such good care of her since the prison, she couldn't abandon him to his eventual collapse from exhaustion. Trudging. They'd only be trudging behind him these past 48 hours. At first, the sign to Terminus had reinvigorated them all, but as Glenn kept up a relentless pace, far ahead of them-even in his riot gear!- the others had gotten restless and frustrated with her for continuing to insist they follow him and keep up with him. Honestly, she didn't know Glenn any better than she knew Abraham, Eugene or Rosita. Except Glenn saved her. Glenn took pity on her. Glenn forgave her. That was the most important part, his simple, almost flippant forgiveness was the cause of her loyalty and trust.

Mute, Glenn agreed to stop and sleep at one of these houses by simply following her. He perked back up when they entered the cul-de-sac by the train tracks. The Sergeant... Abraham?... the guy who'd tried to beat the shit out of him, unsuccessfully, after saying to his face his wife was dead, or gone forever, regardless... Abraham devised a perimeter check. Sweep the houses and yards, one team behind the houses, one in front on the road. They'd cover a bunch of ground, note any serious threats, plus the places with the most potential and meet back in the asphalt circle- the turnaround at the end of the street, where they stood now. 

Good enough plan. All Glenn cared about was getting them all settled so he could slip away unnoticed into the night and back on the tracks towards Maggie. That's where he belonged. Tara, this lady who followed him around doe eyed and quiet, she was better off with Abraham, the Doctor and that other lady. He couldn't do anything for her, and after this, he wasn't stopping for her, or with her, again. She'd be better off this way. 

Of course she chose to do the perimeter sweep with him. But they were an odd-numbered group. Abraham could hit one side of the street on his own, he suggested. Rosita protested. Glenn announced he'd take that side of the street alone, he was the only one dressed for a solo assault, and Rosita go with Abraham, Tara with Dr. Eugene. That decided, they split up and did a quick sweep of the neighborhood. 

\-------------

How long had it been? A week? Ten days? Better to count by walker herds. Daryl and Beth had seen three come through. Two that just slowly shambled by over the course of an hour or so without smelling them or making any moves toward their house. The third they had to deal with. They’d been downstairs when that group came up from the train tracks behind the house and clung close to the house and yard. The back door had been open, too, the screen door letting fresh air in. And letting their sweet, living scent out to the human-eaters. Rather than let the walkers damage the windows or doors of their sanctuary, Daryl and Beth went out to meet them, stabbing and shooting bolts and beating them all down in a couple's killing spree that made them both laugh afterwards at the absurdity of all this. 

You could also tell how long it’d been by the fewer and fewer un-christened surfaces in the house. The whole upstairs carried the constant, heavy scent of sex and the tingling air of regularly renewed anticipation. The downstairs was being christened room by room, furniture by countertop by rug. Neither of them had ever experienced that cliché “you never see or hear from so-and-so anymore” exhilaration of a new and intense sexual relationship. 

Daryl had friends who’d been like this. Met a girl they couldn’t get enough of, didn’t hear from the guy for a few weeks. Sometimes, he’d married her or got her pregnant and then the couple came round together more often as they had less sex. Sometimes, it’d burn out just as fast as it started and you’d see the guy alone and defeated for a while till he found his next conquest. None of that ever happened to Daryl or to Merle, either. So, this was all new to him. He and Beth shared so many new experiences together. They might as well both be teenagers, for how he felt! 

Beth definitely knew a girl who’d disappeared for a few weeks every time she got a new boyfriend. You couldn’t even text her! She was off the radar until the guy dumped her or pissed her off and she dumped him. Beth always thought that was the stupidest thing ever and swore she’d never do it herself. Now here she was with Daryl, day in and day out, like it wasn’t even the zombie apocalypse out there in the rest of the world! 

Their busy days in the honeymoon phase were spent searching all the houses, eating, drinking (scored a 12 pack at one place), killing a few errant walkers, rigging the house up more and more like a fortress, stockpiling supplies from other houses (they'd found a drawer full of bras in her size!), and, well, exploring each other. They talked a lot. More than Beth expected. Daryl told her so many wild, weird stories about being "a nothing, nobody, just some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother." She knew he was leaving out the most traumatic parts and never mentioned anything about his parents, his childhood or his scars. But she didn't care, she was mesmerized all the same.

She did her best to interest him with the stories of her life, in turn. But mostly it was just family stuff, because she thought of her family as his family now. She talked a lot about Hershel and Maggie and her older brother, Shawn. And, for some reason, Jimmy and Zach. Like her lover wanted to hear about her old boyfriends. She didn't know why she talked so much about Jimmy, one day. And Daryl said it was fine. Jimmy was a good kid. It was good for her to talk about him and remember him. 

"Sides, what I got to be jealous of? We may be the last two standing, like you say." 

\------

It wasn't the largest in the neighborhood, but this house was surely unique in the boarded up windows and secure-looking doors. Abraham and Rosita spent a long time looking up at the back of the big two story house, looking for movement or light behind any of the windows. She kept trotting ahead a bit, then doubling back, after scanning around each side of the property. 

"There's traps and alarms everywhere," she reported. 

"So... could people be in there or was all this set up long ago?" Abraham asked; she shrugged in response. The sergeant had a hard time figuring out for sure. He refused to get too close to the backyard fence, didn't want to trigger anything. Couldn't see the work up close to inspect it for signs of wear or age. Hell, everything looked worn and aged these days. 

\-----------

Daryl whistled, low, peering out the smallest of slits in their boards on the back window of the master bedroom,

“That’s one big sum'bitch.” 

Beth nodded and slinking quietly over the upstairs landing, up to the front window: 

“Damn. There’s a couple out front too, heavily armed. They look like they’re casing the neighborhood, picking a house. Maybe… wait… there’s one more in the group, talking… a dark haired guy, with his back to me, he’s in full riot gear! Looks like they’re splitting up, again,” and she ducked back before the riot guy turned. 

“Big guy and his buddy just got recruited," Daryl stood up, whispering, now, "Back yard’s clear. We can make it out, like we planned. Just lay low… in the master bath, get our clothes on, (they'd basically lived in various states of undress lately), out the window, down the roof, jump in the backyard, over the fence and run like hell.” Beth nodded and began gathering things from the two bedrooms they’d shared. She regretted leaving so much of the food downstairs, but there was nothing for it now. She pulled her pile of rumbled clothes and bras against her chest, bag slung over a shoulder and backed into the bathroom with Daryl shutting the door behind her. He wrenched the window open hard and fast. 

Just as they started to arrange their things, pack quickly and quietly, him putting on boots, buttoning his vest and loading the crossbow, the front door opened with a bang and a loud thud. Two sets of footsteps entered carefully. Beth dropped flat against the cold linoleum floor, perfectly still. Daryl crouched behind her, bow aimed at the door. They may just have to bail, leave everything here, get out fast. 

\-------- 

Glenn and Tara slid quietly and cautiously into the house. The loud bang of the door should have alerted anyone who was alive in here. Nothing. Also, thankfully, didn't hear any groaning complaints of the hungry dead in response to their abrupt entry. Still, though. Never knew when you'd open a closet and one would be in there. Both he and Tara kept weapons drawn; didn't speak; moved into the living room and kitchen, respectively. Abraham and the others were scouting inside the second-pick house of the neighborhood. Glenn insisted on clearing the first-choice and Tara wouldn't take no for an answer in following him.

"Hey!" she called out softly in warning. He came quickly into the kitchen behind her, "Look. There's food here. I mean, recently eaten food. All over the place." She lowered her weapon. "There's people staying here." 

Glenn surveyed the damage. She was right. There were neatly assembled groups of supplies, a shirt tossed over a chair. For heaven's sake, there was a pair of fairly new shoes, by the door, clearly recently worn outside in the red mud and grass! "They've been staying here a little while..." 

"Yeah..." Tara mused, "Wouldn't that be nice? Wait." She looked at the shoes, too, "Do you think they're in here somewhere? Hiding from us?" 

"Only one way to find out..." he walked towards the room behind the kitchen, without opening the door, "Hello?! We're friendly. We won't take your stuff or hurt you. We're not those kinds of people. Just looking for other survivors!" He gently pushed the door open, a laundry room and a linen closet, both empty. Tara gestured toward the living room. Passing the stairs, Glenn called out again, "Hello?! Anyone here?" making his way around the archway into the living area with Tara ahead of him, peering at closets, as well as out the windows to the backyard.

\-------

“It’s Glenn…” Beth whispered, sucking in her breath, “oh… my god… Daryl!… It’s Glenn and Maggie!!” 

Beth shot up from the floor, shouting: “Glenn!!” and she bounded from the bathroom as Daryl hissed behind her, trying to stop her. 

“Com’n!” she called, “It’s Glenn and Maggie!” and she swung around the bedroom’s door frame, toward the stairs… before Daryl could tell her to put on some pants! 

Glenn heard his name, spun around towards the stairs and at the top was shocked to see a mostly undressed Beth beaming and singing his name; tears running down her cheeks. She was wearing just underwear and a small tee shirt, clearly no bra. What the hell?! 

“Beth!…uh…” he cleared his throat, flushed. 

“Where’s Maggie?! Where is she, Glenn?!” and she bounced down a few steps towards him, suddenly feeling breeze from the open front door. Shit! She slapped her hands modestly over herself, blushing hard. “Damn. Sorry… Sorry, Glenn! I was just so excited to hear your voice, I didn’t think! Where’s Maggie?!”  


“I haven’t found her,” he sighed, crestfallen that Maggie wouldn’t be coming down the stairs next, around her sister, into his embrace. But he smiled up at her and her silly beet-red embarrassment. Then a thought occurred... “Who’s up there with you?!”

Daryl’s heavy boot falls stomped the upstairs landing. He appeared, rugged and tall, above them, reaching a pair of jeans down to Beth with a sly smile. Glenn’s shoulders bowed up; offended, shocked, and defensive of Beth, all in an instant. Daryl’s eyes met Glenn’s. His hard gaze dared Glenn to say something about it. Glaring, wordless, his eyes commanded: ‘It’s done. Back down.’ 

Glenn cleared his throat again, breaking Daryl’s stare and looking back at Beth who sat on the stairs, jeans just put on, thankfully. 

“Don’t be mad, Glenn!” she chirped, “I’m so happy to see you!” and she took the last few stairs in a leap and fell in his arms in a big hug of his neck. 

The exuberance and comfort of her arms made something click for Glenn. A new reality illuminated. He wasn’t the only survivor of the prison. Others made it out. He wasn’t alone. He embraced Beth, slowly, thoughtfully, his mind racing. His hope in finding Maggie had never diminished, but now he had real proof that she might just be alive out there! And he wasn’t alone! Shuddering sighs of relief rippled through his body and came out his mouth as chuckles and laughs as he lifted Beth from the stairs and spun her around twice, wheezing softly “You’re alive! You’re alive,” into her big mess of hair in utter shock at his good fortune. 

He set her down and looked at her, smiling as wide as he had in months. She rested a hand on his cheek and he leaned down and placed his forehead on hers. “Beth! You’re alive,” he smiled. Then he turned, hearing Daryl come down behind them and reached out a happy arm for Daryl, too. Daryl clapped Glenn on the back and pulled him into the side-by-side, one-armed, man-hug, laughing at him. Daryl was genuinely happy to see Glenn again and it showed. He didn't realize he'd be so relieved, so struck by the emotions of knowing others got out. Daryl was feeling quite as much relief as Glenn, for different reasons.

“Uh… who are your friends?” Tara asked. She’d been standing there, quietly the whole time, watching. 

“More like Family!” Glenn boomed without hesitation. “This is my wife’s little sister, my baby sister-in-law, Beth. And this is Daryl, I never had a real brother, and Daryl’s as close as I’ve ever come.” Tara smiled, cautiously, guarded, looking from Daryl to Beth. Beth reached to shake Tara’s hand, her usual bright smile in greeting and Daryl gave Tara one of his half-smirks of cool acknowledgement… until recognition flashed across his eyes. 

“You were with the Governor!! Beth, don’t touch her!” and he shoved between them. Got in Tara’s face, his chest against hers, “Bitch! You good as killed her daddy!”

“Daryl!” Beth shrieked pushing uselessly on him, as Daryl stood immovable and strong. She cried: “Glenn trusts her!” Daryl’s shoulders went down at that, and he backed up only a bit, his eyes still locked on Tara.  


“She was a victim of the Governor, too, Daryl,” Glenn sighed. He realized it was going to be like this with every prison survivor he met, since he was determined to meet more. Might as well start now, “She didn’t want this...” 

“He… Brian... this Governor… was different with us, my sister…” Tara choked, then darted pained eyes at Beth, “the… the old, kind man… was your…??” and bile rose in her throat. She gagged a little, remembering. “I’m so sor…” but she choked again and turned quickly, retching out the front door, to the side, into the grass, she fell on her hands and knees, hacking painfully.

“Damn,” Daryl said. He looked at Beth. “Don’t make her innocent, tho’. We don’t have to travel with the likes of her if…” 

“Daryl! Stop it!” her enraged eyes bit hard into him, “The Governor killed my Daddy. Not this lady. I never saw her before that day. The Governor kidnapped Glenn and my sister. The Governor killed Andrea. I don’t know this lady and I don’t need to! Cause I know she didn’t kill my Daddy!” and she strode forward, bent down and rubbed Tara’s shoulders, wanting to soothe her. Looking back up at him, softly, “It ain’t her fault, Daryl. Don’t be such an ass all the time.” She said it almost like a joke, but the admonishment cut deep. Inside, he staggered backwards; though, really, he just stood there stunned.  


Tara gripped one of Beth’s hands as she shook and stammered a bit. “He killed my sister and my niece, or got them killed, anyway. Took everything away from me that day...” then, raising her head, in a violent scream: “We trusted him!!” crumbling, shivering, softer: “I wish I was dead. I’m so sorry for your people! I’m so sorry!” Beth pulled her in, cradled her a bit as Tara cried ugly, messy tears.

Glenn and Daryl left the women some privacy in their grief and found Abraham and the others in the second-choice house. They'd all stay the night there, Daryl insisted, as he didn't want any memories in he and Beth's house but their very own.


	7. His woman, Her man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next day.  
> Choice words are exchanged in all directions as Glenn deals with what's transpired between innocent, sweet little Beth and... Daryl...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Free flow thought, straight from last chapter to this, all at once.  
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!  
> Thank you all so much for the kudos and hits that keep on coming!  
> I promise to keep reading and commenting on your works too!  
> ~Sintina

After sleeping on it, Glenn woke early and made a decision. He caught Daryl on his way back into the house, from the back yard, asked him out on a supply run, in the rising dawn, just the two of them. 

Beth woke up just as Daryl sat on the bed, put on his boots, and was leaving. She sleepily questioned Glenn, who stood in the doorway, about it. He says he and Daryl are the only ones really up at this hour, besides Rosita on watch. No worries, they'll be back soon and hopefully have a fresh breakfast for everybody. 

She stretched, rolled over, kissed Daryl quickly goodbye. Beth didn't think about it until later that morning. Didn't think of the implications of them being alone together, what they would obviously talk about.

And she got pissed.

\------

Daryl let them get a good ways down the road before explaining that he and Beth had been living here for over a week, hell, maybe two, so, they'd already scavenged most of these houses. Glenn stopped walking and looked away, at the tree line, over it, into the horizon he imagined over there somewhere. If only Maggie was here to do this with him. Well, she wasn't. Really, he was doing this in her place, for her. 

"That's fine, Daryl. You must know supplies are not what we needed, anyway. We need to set some stuff straight, just you and me." 

Daryl rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. He could be in bed, sound asleep, in her embrace, right now. He'd gotten up for a piss and now he was stranded out here with this little man looking all puffed up and preachy. He sat down heavily on the curb with the exhaustion of his situation. 

"Daryl... about Beth..." Glenn began.

“We ain’t talking 'bout this, Glenn," he growled, low. 

“You don’t have to talk. I’m talking to you," Glenn started to pace a little, clearly nervous, "Just respect me enough to listen.”

When Daryl didn't protest, just pulled out a brown cigarillo and lit it with a match, taking a long draw, Glenn continued:

"It's not that I don't understand. I do. I think I do. I get it. She's young. She's beautiful. And you two were alone a long time," he paused, still expecting something from Daryl, he didn't know what, but something. Dixon's quiet contemplation, almost like he was ignoring Glenn entirely, irked him, but he pressed on, "I just... I need to know, man to man, right here and now..." and he finally found the right words, "I am concerned you may have taken advantage of her, Daryl."

"What’d you say to me?!" a threat. A bare threat. Nothing less. Daryl didn't move; didn't look up. Didn't blow a line of smoke from his lips. Just sat there, still and hard. 

Glenn stood resistant to Daryl's tone. Firmly, he repeated:

"I said, I believe, you may have taken advantage of Beth. Daryl, I have eyes. I remember how she worshipped you at the prison with all the other kids. They made a game out of guessing your backstory, for God's sake! They took bets and whispered and laughed about all the grand adventures they'd imagined for you! And then she's got her hero all to herself..."

"Beth ain't no damn kid." Still didn't move; kept his eyes hidden behind that shaft of dark, heavy hair. Didn't even blink. Just breathed, deliberately, slowly.

Glenn ignored him, continuing: "It would have been easy for her to mistake all that adoration she had for you... as something more... something exciting. And I can see how that would be difficult for you to ignore... but she couldn't have known better. You could."

Daryl exploded off the curb. It was faster than Glenn had ever, _ever_ seen him move. But he stayed a few paces back from Glenn, not right up on him. All of his rage reached Glenn, though, even at a distance, waves of heat and fury that had real, tangible, weight to them. Glenn involuntarily stumbled back.

"What do you take her for?! Huh?! How dare you disrespect Beth like that!! You piece of shit!! Who do you think she is? You don't know nothing 'bout her! You don't fucking tell me about my woman, Glenn!!"

Hoarse, Daryl advanced, pointing, with a lower growl,

"You go the fuck back to that house and you fucking get to know your little sister, your wife's fucking sister, man! You don't _look_ at me again until you spent the next few days learning she ain't no damn kid!" he wheeled away, "Hasn't been for a long time! And it's got nothing to do with me! You and I and every other blind adult in that prison didn't see her... who she truly is! She grew up fast, just like fucking Carl!" And he started pacing in angry, tense circles around himself, stomping the pavement, "Damn Rick!! Not letting Carl have his gun or stab walkers on the fence with the rest of us! Like that kid didn't need the release every bit as much as you n me, Glenn!" his voice rising again, getting worked up, "Rick just babied that poor bastard like he didn't shoot his own damn mom in the face after cutting her open to deliver his baby fucking sister!!! Beth grew up just like that, Glenn!!! And she's much older than Carl! How can you respect Carl and not Beth?! Huh?! How?!" he realized the accusation was crazy, since Glenn hadn't mentioned Carl.

Then, reignited, charging his prey, low and menacing: "You talk like that about Beth to me again... you fucking watch yourself! We're here about to break her damn heart!! This whole reunion shit is s'pose to be happy for all o' us. You're the closest thing to family she's got and you're trying to _throw down_ with her man, right now? She sees us fighting, fighting for real, Glenn, and she won't get better from that! You leave this shit alone, RIGHT NOW, you hear? And you go the fuck back and you fucking talk to Maggie's little sister. NOT me. HER!!!" 

Daryl was rasping, but as he strode back and forth, he kept his eyes locked on Glenn's until Glenn took a step back, looked away, fell onto the curb in a heap. The way Daryl had fallen a few small minutes ago. 

Glenn sighed hard and looked up at the sky, seeming to beg forgiveness from the clouds, and glancing at Daryl, "Can I bum a smoke?" 

Daryl snorted, "Thought you were better than smoking," 

"Not now, I'm not," Glenn smiled a little, trying to bring Daryl out of his rage. 

It worked. Daryl cooled almost instantly, sinking down beside Glenn, lighting two cigarillos and handing him one. 

"Well. I'm an asshole," Glenn offered.

"Yeah, me too," Daryl admitted.

"I didn't realize..." Glenn drew a puff of smoke and coughed, making Daryl laugh at him, "Shut up. Look. Understand that I've never seen you care so much about anyone, Daryl, not since you went looking for Sophia on the farm," Glenn sighed, a hand through his thick hair, "I should have known better. I thought you might be using her. For no good reason except I didn't consider either of your personalities well enough to realize differently. I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"I heard someone say that's what happens when you assume shit," Daryl puffed. 

"Yep. Ass of you and me, got it." And they finished their smokes in that satisfied silence people reach when they understand each other. 

\-----------

They were walking back. Not far off.

Beth stormed up to them, as they approached. She needed to get this out, away from the rest of those strangers in Glenn's new group. She loved both these men and they needed to hear this from her, right now! 

They both smiled as she came up. 

"Hey, sexy," Daryl cooed, warmly. 

"Hi, there, Beth," Glenn smiled just as openly. 

She ignored their smiles or didn't realize their general demeanor meant they weren't at odds. 

"Glenn!" she screeched, "Don't pretend you didn't take Daryl out today to harass him about him and me!" 

"I won't. You're right, I..." 

"Look! Shut up. I need to say something to you," she started poking his chest, "Daryl is my lover and I'm his and that's my choice!" 

"Beth, don't..." Daryl started, gently. 

"No, Daryl!! I'm fighting for you like you fight for me all the time, got it?!" And she turned on Glenn, "How dare you attack my man with all your bullshit judgment and not even talk to me, first?! What do you think of me? That I'm some loose little idiot that doesn't know better than to screw the first guy who's nice to me?! Daddy took you into our family without a single question to Maggie! Gave you his fucking watch, Glenn! And you can't show Daryl the same respect? You can't accept Daryl at face value, just because I chose him the way Maggie chose you?! Can't even accept him the way Daddy accepted you? Damn it! After everything Daryl's done for you! For the group! That's low, Glenn! That's damn low. You leave Daryl alone! From now on, take up your issues with me! Because he's my man and I'm his woman and there's nothing you can do about it! Just grow up and deal with it! Damn!!" And she heaved herself away from him, pushing off of his chest. Hands sternly crossed, waiting for his weak ass attempt at a reply. 

A pause, a quick glance at each other, then Daryl and Glenn burst into overwhelming guffaws of laughter. Hooting and hawing, they both bent over their knees at the force of their outburst. They steadied each other in their whooping, mutual amusement at poor Beth's expense. She stamped her foot, irritated beyond belief.

"Hoooooo...." Glenn basically sobbed with a final laugh, "...Oh... Daryl!!!" Chortling, "She really IS your woman! Oh my god!!" And he brushed past her, rocking with the giggles. 

"Glenn! Don't you walk away from..." 

Daryl grabbed her arm, stopping her from storming after him, "Claws in, lover. Claws in." She whipped around on him. He kissed her so hard and suddenly she melted for a second. Then recovered, 

"Daryl, I..." He kissed her again, harder, happier, full of new understanding and new appreciation, like it was one of their first kisses or something. She gave up. 

"Promise to tell me what that was all about?" she whispered into his mouth. 

"Easy," his bedroom-only, gravel voice on her lips, "I'm your man. You're my woman. That's it." 

She gave up and gave into the kisses that felt brand new.


	8. Onward Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's self-reflection on the train tracks to Terminus.  
> An accidental discovery of a group of humans that are _perhaps_ the most disturbing any of them have faced thus far.  
>  So many sickos out there these days, we'll call it a 3-way tie for first place.  
> The saddest part is realizing no one's really surprised anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? Carol's chapter is coming soon!! Dealing with the shattering of those last emotional/sensitive bits of herself after "The Grove." 
> 
> I love Carol. I'd watch her spin-off series. Seriously. 
> 
> Thank you all again for the love! I love writing this for you. Tell me what you'd like to see next. I appreciate you. And your stories. Your various Bethyl imaginings inspire me daily. 
> 
> ~Sintina

Daryl trudges along with the rest of them. Lost in thought, he studies his surroundings. This is a pretty big crew to be on the move with. Though Rick's crowd was twice this size during the long winter after Hershel's farm. Being with so many people still felt weird; alien. It was all those months holed up in the prison, doing his own thing. Only going out in small groups; in pairs, more often. And all that time alone to hunt. Then another month or two with Beth, just the two of them. Now, five more people seemed like a huge inconvenience. Although he knew that was such a dick way to feel about people. This was the end of the world. Every decent person needed to live and survive. All of them were safer, more likely to make it, the greater their number. Maybe the real problem was he didn't know more than half of 'em. That unsteadied him. His hackles were up all the time now.

Walking the tracks does give you a clear line of sight in most directions, though. And they've got high ground on this railroad mound, when walkers come outta the woods, below them, most times. Once or twice the tracks have been in a valley of their own making, like back at the cul-de-sac, with the trees higher up. But they sort of slipped through those times without a fight, so far.

Walking for about 6 hours, since before sunrise. He gazed off at Glenn’s back, far ahead. Glenn must’ve reverted to his old self, before he met the group. That lone scavenger, making runs in and out of dangerous places, hiding, watching his territory. That’s who Daryl was looking at now.

‘Glenn knows we got to stop and make camp sometime. What's his problem? We'll get there when we get there. It's a straight shot, right? Can’t miss it, seems like.’ Then Daryl imagined Beth missing… how he might run all night, all day, run until he died, if he had to… to find her. And he forgave Glenn immediately. Scoffed at himself for being thick headed and grumpy. 

Daryl can't really pinpoint his frustration. He scans the group. Spots Beth, ahead of him; smirks at one corner of his lips. That was something else. Living through the apocalypse is pretty much worth it now, doing that, with her. Best he's ever had, by far. He puts it out of his mind. Memories only make him want to have her again... and soon. Maybe that's part of it. Glenn and the gang showing up put an end to their privacy and dragged out the space and time between any intimacies they could share. If he was alone on these tracks with her, they could find a clear spot and go at it anytime they wanted. He scanned the tree line. There's a stump he could bend her over, right there.

‘Spose’d to be putting this _out_ your mind,’ he chastised himself. 

Daryl returned to a thought that'd been nagging him. A nugget of his outburst on Glenn turned over and over in his mind. That part about Carl. He realized he wasn't angry at Glenn for respecting Carl more than Beth. He was angry at himself for it. Back at the prison, hell, all the way up to the moonshine, Daryl saw Carl as a man and Beth a little girl. Despite their age difference. Why? Because he was a sexist pig, that's why. The recognition of it burned him. He had to tell Beth. It was one of those things you discover about yourself that you can't hide from your lover; something they need to know. 

He'd thought Beth was some ignorant, innocent girl needing his protection up until he got drunk with her. Heck, her helplessness didn't really go away even after the funeral home, or after the first time...no. Not really until she'd lived with him every day in their honeymoon phase then attacked Glenn for him, just after he'd attacked Glenn for her.

All that time. It wasn't just because she was young. Nor that she did dumb, young person stuff from time to time. Carl had those characteristics too. No. The main reason he'd seen Carl one way and Beth another was because Beth was female. And that made him a huge jerk. He'd patronized and pigeon holed her all because of her ovaries and double x chromosomes. He was no better than Merle, really. Except Merle did that shit knowingly and Daryl had done it entirely subconsciously. He'd been beating himself up about it pretty much ever since it hit him. 

Beth was up ahead, getting what he assumed was much-needed female companionship from Tara and Rosita. She'd become fast friends with Tara, sharing in their mutual pain at the Governor's hands. Rosita had apparently revealed her own dark secrets with the other two women and they often walked together now, in tight confidence. He smiled. Beth seemed softer when she was with other women. All that time alone with him had robbed her of some of her femininity. Now she had it back. It was a pleasure watching her with them. Wait. Was that a sexist thing to be thinking? Did she really need to be more feminine to be more pleasing? 

Damn. Never having really _cared_ about a woman before, all these dynamics were things he'd never considered. It all sounded like hippie, yuppie college bullshit all his life. Not now. He wanted to have total respect for his lover. Wanted there to be nothing about her which he put down in his mind, even subconsciously. Her sex, least of all. He may of been raised up an ignorant hick, but she deserved him to be his best self. His new self. She'd wanted him to bury his old life and own who he'd become in the group. A hero. A man worthy of her and all she had given him. But how do you unlearn all you've ever been? This was frustrating.

Merle's voice piped up from the deep: "Pussy whipped, ain't ya, little brother? Changing yerself up for some skirt?" Internal Daryl denied it: "Not her fault. She never asked all this o' me. I'm doing it cuz I want to. For her. I want to." Merle crooned: "Ya keep telling yourself that. Gotta be easier tail out there, you ask me. Ain't no bitch worth being something yer not."

Daryl hated having arguments with Merle all this time. You'd think he'd have put down the voice of his brother by now. He'd put down walker-Merle ages ago. The memory rose bile in his throat and stabbed his heart and stomach. He winced away a rising tear. He missed Merle so damn much. Below all this heroism Beth and the others applauded all the time, he, the Daryl they knew and loved, pined for being bossed around, kicked when he was down and told what to do in every circumstance. He admitted it. Being told what to do was so much easier. Now he was facing something as new and frightening as his... _care_... for Beth without the simple and direct orders Merle would've dished out to guide him. And it was hard. But worth it. Not worth Merle dying, course, but worth learning how to make up his own mind. If only Merle'd been alive to see it, for real.

That was enough of that. Daryl couldn't stand being alone in his own thoughts so long. Idle was something Dixons never did well.

He decided on something and trotted past the others, catching up to his, basically, brother in law, "Hey! Hold up." 

Glenn turned like a guy suddenly remembering there were other people around him.

“Look like you come out a trance,” Daryl told that vacant gaze of Glenn’s. 

"What?!" Glenn drew his weapon, looking defensively at the trees to their left.

Everyone else, but the two of them and that big ass dude, all slouched over, stretched, sighed heavily, looked up at the sky. The women sat down and started to drink water, passing a canteen.

"Look around,” Daryl gestured “You're marching the troops to death." Glenn surveyed the beleaguered crew. They did look exhausted. How long had they been walking? He looked up. Oh. Daryl was right. Danggit. 

"Right. Sorry. Let's slow up. Find food. Make camp. Any ideas?"

The big guy came up: "I think we just passed a church back in there," gesturing to their right, "Saw the steeple over the trees." Without hesitation, the exhausted group headed off the tracks.

\-----

The church was a small country affair on a dirt road. They come up behind it, the whole group crouched down together assessing the potential shelter. The back end faced them. There was a storage building, none too big. A double wide, probably for Sunday School and daycare, oversaw a rusted old playground of the iron and steel rod variety. The beams like a daddy-long-legs rising out of the backyard's bed of pine needles. Daryl admired the shine of the slide in the growing sunlight. Some things never changed.

On recon, they made a wide perimeter. The campus was fairly spread out, with the playground, a half basketball court, out buildings and two parking lots around the little church. They regrouped in the front parking lot. Abraham quickly gestured to everyone to remain silent and pointed across the road. There was a cluster of maybe 30 walkers in the sprawling, uneven graveyard. They were clearly hording around something and eating it, looked like a deer, maybe two or three, from a distance. The group moved out of the open air, into a cluster of trees on a tiny knoll, just slightly overlooking the graveyard. Glenn quietly devised a plan of attack to get rid of the whole herd in a swoop, from all sides. The graveyard could be surrounded, the walkers taken out without a fuss. So long as there weren't more in the forest around them. Then, they could assess the church and set up shop.

Suddenly, Dr. Eugene cleared his throat. He'd made a discovery, apparently. He stood away from the group, pondering hand on his chin. They all regarded him for a silent second. He turned to them, walked back. "Odd. Movements are more living, less shambled and slacked," he pointed to the hoard in the grave yard, "See how the one pushes on the other deliberately? The other pushes him back? And the female stands, squats, adjusts herself around the pray, like a living animal?" Everyone craned necks and arched up to see what he meant. "Also, note, there seem to be several dead standing among the group who are not eating. Not even attempting it...hmmm.. Those non-eaters don't seem to have arms!" Daryl, Glenn and Beth exchanged a quick look. 

"No Shit!," Rosita exclaimed in a quiet gasp, "No shit!... Those aren't just walkers!... There are people in there eating raw deer with them!" 

"No way. Come on," Glenn strained to make out details. Sure enough, a group of living people were in among the walkers. There was probably 5 to 10 of them. They were covered in blood and organs, the way he and Rick had disguised themselves in Atlanta. Plus, the humans with the dead also employed Michonne's technique. They were each attached at a wrist to an armless, jawless, animated corpse. But, unlike anything he'd ever seen, or any of them, for that matter, these people were feasting on raw flesh right along side the dead! They weren't really fighting the walkers for the food. They let the zombies have first dibs on everything. Then, like hyenas at a lion feast, they broke in from time to time, pulling at viscera and sharing it between them.

Recognition of what they were witnessing added new details no one noticed before. You could hear the walker-imitators speaking to each other. They repeated something like a greeting or a chant or a rhyme which no one could make out... as they ate. Theirs was a grunting tone, not unlike the sounds made by the undead. They circled in and out, adjusted around the feasting walkers, as needed, to feast themselves. They slurped blood and sucked marrow and gnawed into the crevices of bones. Glenn and the group stooped low, motionless, transfixed by this display. Even Daryl, who knew it was unsafe to watch, to be here at all, held his crossbow tight against his shoulder, aiming at the cluster, but couldn't take his eyes off the clearly human group. 

Beth fidgeted nervously against him. The sounds were the worst part. The humans' grunts and growls mingled with those of the dead, but it was clearly different. Impatient, purposeful, their noises were conscious sounds rather than trailing nonsense. They were all the more terrifying for it. Plus, the crunching and grinding of their eating. It was so much grosser because she imagined her own mouth doing it. With walkers, it was alien. They were different. These were people, just like her. Only not at all. Finally, after the walkers began to move on, the human hybrids stripped every scrape that was left in a practiced, piranha-like rush. They hurriedly gathered the skin and bones and drippings, even pulled up clumps of blood-soaked grass, and carried it off in the same direction as the herd. Their own harmless walkers stumbling along behind and beside them.

"Well. We're not staying here," Daryl said, turning quickly back toward the tracks.

\---------

The group ran as a school of fish. Through the trees and back to the relative safety and comfort of the railroad. They kept jogging together a little ways; to put distance between themselves and _whatever_ that just was.

By afternoon they all sat dumbfounded around a campfire set up under a railroad bridge. They'd come across it around the bend and a few miles past the point where they could no longer see the church steeple above the trees. No one spoke, yet. They busied themselves. Poked around. Drank water. Sighed heavily. Everyone in their own thoughts. Their own disbelief or relief, whichever. Daryl sat down in a huff and very suddenly broke the enormity of the group's silence with a laugh. Everyone looked up at him. His low drawl scratched out:

"You know? This morning I was all onto myself wonderin' whether I was sexist or not." Everyone just sort of blinked. It was such an odd thing to announce randomly, but it'd been a very odd day and no one protested as he continued. "Seeing all that... I may not be the best guy. Not before all this shit went down, and not now, either. But fuck me if I'm not doing better than those poor bastards!"

Everyone smirked. They lightened up a bit. 

"Does make one feel proud of our life choices, doesn't it?" Dr. Eugene smiled. 

"I was thinking about skirts this morning, while we were walking," Rosita offered. "I was thinking I'd just like to wear a skirt again. Maybe some heals. Now I'm only glad I'm not wearing organs and guts! Dressed for eating brains!" 

"I've never wanted a steak so bad in all my life," Abraham laughed at himself, "Was it just me or did watching them glut like that make anyone else hungry?!" 

Tara mock-gagged at him as some of the others feigned squeals of disgust. In turn, each shared a story of what they'd been thinking of before the grotesquery and their own jokes at the expense of the ravenous scavengers. All except Beth. 

She took Daryl's hand, sitting cross-legged beside him. Her face was sad and thoughtful. It was a shame the world was in such a state, she sighed. When people are exposed to an animalistic clan of fellow people living out their days eating stuff alive... among the undead... and there's really no sadness about it, no remorse? What did that mean? 

Daryl leaned into her. "Nice bonding experience, eh?" he soothed, not noticing the way she'd reacted.

But it shook her. He was right. Everyone was laughing now. 

Because, really, what else could you do?

"So..." she smiled, "What's this about being sexist, hmm?"


	9. Carol's Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shell of a spectral woman. More than a loss for words. The world sinks and swallows Carol whole. 
> 
> And nothing ever changes...
> 
> (Immediately following "The Grove").

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I haven't lost the optimistic/joyful goal of this story as a whole. This is buildup for the next chapter, I promise!
> 
> So amazed by all the hits and kudos! Would love to hear your thoughts, suggestions and comments more.  
> Promise Daryl and Beth will be back (AND that the next chapter's getting posted in 24 hours or less).
> 
> WARNING: If child or spousal abuse are a trigger, this has some, implied, not graphic.

It burns. It burns white hot fire all over. And he stands above, her blood on his hands, wiping his fingers, in long streaks, on her clean clothes. Now she'll have to do laundry again.  
The back of Lizzie's head explodes in a gush of gore and the little girl's corpse slumps forward, into those sweet fragrant flowers. Carol is over her, the child's blood on her hands. And Sophia sobs somewhere, everywhere... always. 

Judith cried. Carol blinked. She'd been walking with Tyreese and Judith, but lost a big chunk of time, by the sunlight. Oh well. Just walking with all the ghosts. Everywhere is haunted, now, right Tyreese? He said something back to her and offended, she mumbles out: 

"You don't know!" 

"What?" Tyreese looked over. Carol broke their hour long silence with a sudden phrase at him... or someone. She clearly wasn't looking at him. 

She looks ashamed. Looks away. Gurgles. The baby gurgles too. 

Tyreese stopped walking. He held Carol's shoulder to stop her. She would have kept right on going forward if he didn't. 

Sophia is crying and crying. Tyreese takes her out of her sling on Carol's back.

Sophie, Sophie, stop that now. Hush. If you don't hush, Daddy will give you something to cry about, you know that. Please, baby girl, please be quiet, now.

Carol sways softly, under Tyreese's hand; eyes a thousand mile stare. 

He clutched the weepy, sniffling baby in one arm, bouncing her on his chest. But his eyes didn't leave Carol. She was totally unresponsive to Judy's crying. Her eyes were scrunching up in pain, intent on something, far way. Her closed mouth worked like she was talking, but her lips never parted. 

She must be sleep deprived. Right? She must be hallucinating because she's not sleeping at night. Damn. How could he not have realized she didn't sleep at all, any of those times he'd been on watch, since the house? He'd heard that after so many wakeful hours the mind just checked out in partial sleeping/wakeful delirium.

They need to hole up somewhere and he needed to watch her and make sure she sleeps. She was fine when they left the old house where they'd lost the girls. She was pleasant the next day. Carol coddled the baby constantly like Judith was the last child on the planet. She was open and easy with him, now that she had no more secrets. And his forgiveness poured over them both with each passing hour; making them so much more at ease with each other. She talked lightly about what Terminus might be and if they'd see the others there. 

But now. Tyreese stiffened; holding her steady with the one hand, bigger than her whole shoulder. His fingers avoided her breast as he braced her underarm, trying to stop her swaying. He's all there is between her and an abyss he cannot begin to understand. 

He had nightmares each night, for heaven's sake! Like a normal traumatized person. From what he could tell, she didn't seem to remember sleeping or waking. Everything was a nightmare, all the time, since Mikka and Lizzie. Little mannerisms he's missed, even that first pleasant day. She'd had little ways of showing how scared she was over Judy. Fussing shakily and fidgeting every time she cuddled and cooed the girl. He'd missed it. While doing everything he could to keep the days normal, he'd missed her slipping psyche.

\---------

He saw the steeple from the tracks and the whole place was perfect for what he needed. Judith was strapped to his back now, cooing and sucking on a smooth plastic coaster they'd taken from the house. It worked like a teething ring. She gummed and chomped. He smiled at the beautiful illustration of a completely incognizant infant. How little she knew of all this! How great that she could just live each day like a normal person her age. Eat, poop, sleep. Like every baby that ever existed.

Carol, meanwhile, was completely un-lucid now. She was panicking about Sophia. Sweating. Twitching her fingers rapidly at her sides. From what he could tell, her mind overlapped all of the tragic losses of little girls in a frightening kaleidoscope. Judith was Lizzie and Sophia was Mikka. Then Sophia was Judith and Mikka was Sophia and so on. That thousand mile stare got worse and worse. Her eyes wide and scoping, even as she made noises like she was snoring on her feet. 

If he could just lay her down. If he just had some sort of sedative. They made slow progress through the old skeletal playground equipment. He tried the back door and the door of the double wide to the side. Now he was hoping the front doors would be unlocked, like most churches always used to be. Tyreese remembered he had some antihistamine in his pack from the house. He'd grabbed it because he knew allergy season was coming and hated the way pollen made his eyes water. He'd heard sometimes the pills made people sleepy. It was the best he could do for her.

\--------

Judy. Judy... Not Judy! **ED!!!** Don't you take her from me, too! You bastard! You sick son of a bitch!! You leave poor baby Judy alone! LEAVE HER ALONE! Shaking her head wildly from side to side in denial, she raced away with toddler Sophie in her arms, into the pitch of the night. Sudden redness of the world. Stench of death and metallic hot blood, the groaning rasping of the dead. She was swallowing blood. Sophie did her homework, quietly with Carl, in the camp. Carol spit blood and wheezed and held her cheek, hoping no one else had heard... Not a victim. Not a victim. Don't be a victim, Mikka! Fight back! Kill your sister if she tries to kill you! That's it! Strike! Kill her, sweet child, and I'll protect you from now on!! Mikka, I promise! Please!!! And she felt the steel stabs in her gut. Felt Lizzie's wild and wondrous eyes, so full of fanciful, even fun, finality. 'You're coming back, Carol!' Lizzie squeaked in a glorious laugh of an innocent little girl, 'Coming back to play with me and Mikka!'... **NO!!** ...no, no... Lizzie, please put down the knife... ED!! Leave her alone!! Put down the knife, Ed, PLEASE! Sophie, darling, you don't have to be a victim like Momma was... please, baby, please forgive me... 'You're mad at me, aren't you?!' Sophie whirled on her, clinging to the bloody knife... 

\---------

Tyreese watched her thrust her body up and down in thunderous lurches as she snored. He pitied the now-disheveled cushions and pillows he'd gathered for her makeshift bed from the pews in the chapel. She was deep asleep, but violently, violently lashing out with her legs. Craning her arms and neck and shoulders in horrific angles like she was having a seizure in her sleep. He'd tried to keep the pillows under her, afraid she'd hurt herself beating her body against the carpet. But it was no use. If only he could put her on a layer of blankets, but there were none. He saw rug burns and a few bruises build up on her exposed skin. 

But she needed the sleep. He reminded himself over and over. 

If she could just sleep for a long while, one stretch, she'd wake up better. She'd be more like she was before. He rocked the baby on his chest. He was feeding her as he sat vigil over poor, gentle Carol. He'd always seen her so hard. So stern and intense, a woman on a mission. He may have been a big man, always commanding respect with his massive presence, but she was more badass than him and he knew it. She was a murderer, after all. She was a woman who made those kinds of decisions and acted on them. He could never have shot that girl in the head. He couldn't have killed David... or... he ignored the thought. 

Forgiveness. The word melted over him and he remembered she was a gentle woman too, who deserved forgiveness. She was so gentle with the kids. She had this soft sweetness about her when she played with them, read to them, taught them and held them. To see strong yet gentle Carol rocking and heaving like this in a tormented torturous sleep was so very sad; so painful to watch. He let a few tears well in his eyes and slide down. He was so glad the baby wasn't affected by Carol's groans and whispers. 

"ED!" she hissed. He didn't know who Ed was. "Fuck you, fuck you... you won't... not..." she stuttered aloud, her eyes clenched shut and her teeth popping as she ground them. Mostly she slurred unrecognizable words under her breath. But sometimes she cried things aloud. Mostly the names of the girls. Sophia, most of all. Must have been her real daughter, the one he'd heard she lost before meeting him and Sasha. Oh Sasha. He said a quick prayer for her. She could comfort Carol. 

He just sat there stupefied and entranced, but vigilant. Night had fallen and the church was dark but for the moon and starlight. He wasted no candles or flashlight power. The darkness would hopefully help both Carol and the baby sleep. 

\-------

Mid morning and Carol was still. Silently asleep. This was good. The heaving sleep had lasted hours, but now she was peaceful, slumbering with long, steady breathes and softly rising chest. He'd rearranged the pillows for her, made her comfortable. Tyreese slept a few hours himself, after boarding up all the exits as best he could with pews and a podium and a shelf or two. It'd been a gamble. But Judy and Carol both needed him to be rested. 

He slurped some cold, salty, gelatinous soup off a spoon. He licked it bone dry. Then he hoped Carol was okay. She'd been out over 12 hours, he guessed. She'd wake up hungry. He'd wet her lips with water in the night. And, crushing another antihistamine pill in a small cup with a little more water, he'd poured it gently in her mouth. Should he try to spoon her a little soup now? Why not? He slid a full spoon in her passed out, gaped open mouth and her tongue instinctively roved its contents. He was proud of himself as he saw her swallow. But he dared not venture another mouthful, as it might wake her.

\---------

Carol blinked suddenly. Soft evening light soothed her once strained eyes. Her whole body felt relief. Softness? Her arm stretched out and around a cushion of some sort. She pulled it lovingly into her chest. How nice. Then wakefulness dawned and she raised up slowly on an elbow, looking for Judith.

"How are you?" Tyreese gently asked.

"Hmm?" Carol rolled and saw him there sitting beside Judy who rested on another pillow, tugging on its corner. The baby shook her round little coaster absently in the other hand. She was such a cute little scamp, playing without a care in the world. These two made the best picture to wake up to. Caring Tyreese with those big soulful eyes all concern and the sweet little baby girl. The scene was otherworldly. She sighed contentment. Her whole body tingled with fresh sleep. She couldn't remember feeling so rested. Not since before Rick kicked her out. "What happened? I feel drunk, almost," she smiled hazily. 

"I did drug you," Tyreese admitted, "Sorry. You needed it. You were gone... I mean..."

Suddenly awake for real, Carol remembered some of her panic, some of her real and not real memories. 

"Oh," was all she said and hugged a pillow tighter to her chest. Then, looking up at him with her usual intensity "Scared you, huh? Sorry."

"You terrified me. I'm sorry. I don't understand what you've been through. And I know you've been through so much more than me." Carol blinked at the revelation. What brought that on? Did she...

"Did I talk to you or something?" 

"Yeah. Before and after I knocked you out..." 

"Hmph," she breathed out, "Sorry for that, too." 

"No problem. I'm glad I could be on guard when you needed. Wish I'd realized you needed it sooner." 

\--------------

Carol took first watch that night, for 5 hours or so. She sat thinking and watching Tyreese softly snore, twitching like he did with his nightmares of Karen and Sasha.

She was so thankful for him and for Judith. The weight of her guilt at killing Karen and David, being ostracized from her loved ones for it, had practically eaten her alive like the walkers themselves these last months. But now it was gone! Tyreese forgave her and took care of her. She smiled. 

Then she remembered some of her hallucinations of the little girls she kept losing, over and over, throughout this crazy hell. 

But she dismissed them, now, as horrors that couldn’t be helped. She straightened. 

Judith may actually make it. Tyreese and Carol were two of the most competent and capable people the baby could have ended up with. She trusted Tyreese’s nurturing protectiveness and she trusted his strength. Carol realized she had renewed trust in herself, too. Without all that guilt weighing her down, she was able to assess and analyze her pain. Compartmentalizing the three lost daughters, and all the other losses from the prison, away from Judith and Tyreese in her mind. 

These two were still alive. For now. That’s all that mattered. If she lost either of them, she could handle it. She would make it as she had so many times before. But that was only ~if~. She had to focus on surviving and not succumb to victimhood again. Tyreese got her through that bout of terror and giving up. She would make sure he didn’t have to do it again. 

\-------

In the morning, she woke once more in comfort and relief at the sight of Tyreese and the happy baby. 

They were all eating together when they heard the group approach outside. Heard the voices rising in a chant. They secured Beth in a pillow fort so she couldn’t crawl away. She was dozing off, thank God. Please don’t let her make a sound. 

In a squat-run, each took a window at the front of the church, peering through the small slits between the furniture Tyreese had boarded against the glass. The sunlight shone brightly, illuminating a horrifying scene before them. 

A crowd was gathered in the front parking lot. A crowd of chanting walkers? No. Clearly human, but covered in gore and caked with blood. Carol and Tyreese exchanged a look of shock and disgust across the room. Tyreese was pale, almost greening around his mouth, like he may vomit. 

Each human had a walker on a leash, or a chain or a rope, with no jaw and no arms. The dead, searching, eyes of their pets seemed so similar to their own mad, wide eyes. In a monotone, they chanted: 

“Cleanse the living. Raise the dead. Bringing in the sheaves.” 

“Bringing in the sheaves,” they repeated in guttural groans not unlike the sounds of the undead. One voice rose above their mellow din: 

“His time is come to join the living dead as a cleanser of mankind’s sins!” he made some low noises and then his voice sang: "Cleanse the living; raise the dead; bringing in the sheaves; the righteous shall be separated from the wicked and the dead shall rise to be judged." 

"Bringing in the sheaves," a small chorus replied, matter of factly. 

"The dead will be parted. All the spirits of old will rise and those who are true and not false shall be brought to glory, the rest consumed." 

"Bringing in the sheaves."

"Cleanse the living. Raise the dead." 

And out from amongst their group walked a man in his forties, coated like they were and attached to his own maimed walker. A woman brought a basin around from the side of the church, filled with water from who knows where? Tyreese hadn’t seen a well or a spigot. He’d been in a hurry getting Carol inside and settled, though. And he hadn’t ventured outside for closer examination since. Neither of them had. 

Carol felt her skin crawling and blood racing as they witnessed the man, who had clearly been injured in some way, perhaps by a walker bite, or just an ordinary broken leg, stand in the basin of water as the others methodically cleaned the organs and blood he’d coated himself with away. He stood there shivering, looking malnourished, but otherwise like a fairly normal person without all the gore. 

Suddenly, the familiar wheezing of the undead caught everyone’s ears, inside and out. There was a small herd descending on the parking lot scene from the graveyard across the road. 

Carol drew her weapon and loaded the chamber. Maybe they could rescue this guy or put him down fast at least? Tyreese made a sound to signal her. She looked and saw his mouth covered with his hand. He was gagging and gestured his head out the window. 

It had been silent, no screams. Carol missed the moment of death by focusing her attention on arming herself just those few seconds. 

But now all the people were tearing, ripping and clawing at him, sinking their teeth in and pulling him apart just like walkers. The actual walkers approached and the humans parted for them. Carol turned away fast. Tyreese crawled quickly from the window and vomited quietly, but heavily, behind a pew. 

A cannibal cult? Really? Carol’s mind raced. 

She and Tyreese made quick work of gathering their things. 

Guess it makes sense. Cannibal cults existed before, when nearly 90% of humanity _WASN’T_ eating human flesh all the time. As she bundled up Judith she realized she was morbidly surprised she’d never seen this before. Seemed almost natural, now, that some people would choose to adapt in such a way.

Natural… her thoughts caught in her throat… natural to them like it was to Lizzie? A cannibal cult of humans, living alongside the walkers, living like the walkers… it was too close to Lizzie’s condition. Her obsession with them being _like_ her, her being _like_ them. 

Carol shot Tyreese a pained look. Whether he interpreted it correctly or not, he gestured her towards the back of the church. They had to run for it. The number out front was overwhelming. 

Move now while they’re distracted with their “sheave”. 

\-----

Running out into the almost blinding sun, her mind flashed over all the words she ever exchanged with Lizzie about walkers. Was this… cannibalism… the eventual conclusion Lizzie might have come to if Carol hadn’t put her down? She’d be out there with them, eating flesh every day? If Lizzie didn’t eventually just turn herself, getting bit on purpose? 

There were others afflicted like her. If Carol had kept Lizzie alive, tried to isolate just the two of them against the world... it wouldn't have worked. 

Last night, as she compartmentalized, a part of Carol still felt guilty for not just taking Lizzie away from people and keeping her alive. 

But people like _this_ were out there. This close! Lizzie would have found them and joined them eventually. Was this the future Carol saved Lizzie from? 

Suddenly, still running, at the train tracks now and heading onward towards whatever Terminus may be, Carol’s thoughts became clear. 

Carol’s guilt started to fade at the scene she’d just witnessed. Lizzie would have grown older and strong enough to overpower Carol as she had Mikka. She would have killed Carol one way or the other, before long, if Carol had taken Lizzie to live alone with her, away from people. 

She couldn’t protect the girl forever. She couldn’t save her. She’d done the right thing by her. Carol took Lizzie out quickly so she didn’t grow up into one of these human-animals feasting with the dead. Or worse. Lizzie might have lived out her days alone with the walkers, without even a group of fellow cultists to scrounge around with or kill and eat her when the time came. 

The gruesome, morbid thoughts were strangely comforting to Carol. 

She turned her focus to the present. Running ahead of Tyreese along the tracks, she saw how closely he held Judy against him. His long strides and broad body were less jarring to the baby as they ran than Carol’s bounding lean frame would have been. She turned towards him, jogging backwards a sec, just to let him know she was still with him and still good. 

Once they slowed down, they agreed to keep jogging or running, even after a few quick water and food stops. They took off into the clear day, together, alive and comparably sane. Miles whipped away until they came to a railroad utility shed on their left, as the sky began to cool and the brightness was leaving the day. 

They shambled towards it, panting and wheezing and collapsed together in the cool darkness of the interior. As she dozed off at last, the freedom of Tyreese’s wondrous forgiveness mingled with Carol’s new revelations. 

The last of her shame in killing Lizzie was back there with the cannibal cult and their walker ‘friends’.


	10. Baby, You're Alive!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two girls are figuratively resurrected for their loved ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choose the next chapter I write at the bottom! 
> 
> Thank you so so so much! <3 you all!
> 
> ~Sintina

The baby’s cries woke Tyreese and Carol at last. They panicked. Both shot up, weapons drawn, to find they were alone in the utility shed. No sounds of walkers outside or crazy cultists. Nothing but a wailing baby. 

“She’s hungry,” Carol said, extremely sad, “I don’t know that we have anything…”

“There’s kudzu outside,” Tyreese opened the door of their shelter, blistering sunlight cutting in. They both stepped outside, Judith crying in Carol’s arms. “It’s edible. Did you know that? We can give her small pieces to chew and suck on,” and Tyreese was already pulling leaves from the vines that encased every nearby tree in a thick curtain and blanketed the ground. 

Both of them were afraid of Judith’s cries. They always were. But their experiences yesterday were too much. Both were still shaky. They’d run all day and were still not sure if they’d put enough distance between themselves and that church. Though the cultists never gave much chase; never seemed interested in pursuit. Tyreese offered a small piece of green leaf to Judy, who swished it around on her little tongue before spitting it out and wailing. 

“Why don’t we mush it up in our mouths and make a paste?” Carol suggested, loudly, over the epic level tantrum, “Like birds do? She might like the texture better” Judith grabbed at Carol’s hand, which was patting her tummy gently, soothing her. She sucked on Carol’s finger, gurgling cries around it. “She’s thirsty…” Carol looked around. 

“Ha!” Tyreese crowed suddenly, “Look!” He wheeled around the side of the shed. Carol followed. There was a large, wide, bucket, like a wash basin, full to brimming with rain water. It was old and rusted and dirty. It’d been sitting a long time. There were all sorts of fully grown plants rising out of the water and algae floating in it and moss covering its sides. But it was rain water and it had rained recently, so the top of the water had to be relatively fresh. Carol stuck her finger in it and offered the wet finger back to Judy to suck on. She slurped greedily. 

“I’ll find something to filter it with. My shirt, if we have to,” Tyreese offered. It was a tragedy they’d left half their supplies at the church in the mad dash to get out. As the baby sucked and sucked on water that might make her dreadfully ill, the two exchanged a worried and weary glance. But also a smile. They were safe. 

\---------------------------

So convenient how railroads often follow along waterways, or waterways get built up alongside railroads. This creek was manmade, flood mitigation, all concrete banks and concrete floor, shallow. But it did the job of gathering rain water and had a steady, cooling flow. There were even small schools of minnows. Daryl would net those little cusses later. He was a little ways off from the group, down in the creek, washing and skinning kills from this morning. The rest of them made up camp between the tracks and the creek, and were busying themselves with various chores and idle chatter. 

Suddenly, what sounded sort of like a baby’s wail, far in the distance, cut through the midmorning calm. 

“That’s Judith.” Beth proclaimed, midsentence. She’d been sitting with Rosita and Tara, scrubbing clothes in buckets and laughing as Tara joked about the questionable stains on one of Rosita’s shirts. 

“Judith. Judy…” Beth stood, looking towards the faint, continued cry. It came from behind, back down the tracks the way they’d come. The sound softened abruptly, till you couldn’t really hear it anymore, unless you strained.

Glenn took note of Beth as she took many steps away from the camp, along the tracks, in the direction of the sound, her face glazed over and focused. 

“Daryl!” Glenn called out, for help. “Beth. Don’t. Just wait a second, please…” he marched quickly to her. She was already on her way, he could tell. He took a hold of her shoulders. The sound of the baby cry pitched again. Everyone’s heads turned. 

“That’s Judith…” Beth repeated, wrestled away from Glenn and screamed in his face, “That’s JUDY!!!!”

Beth started running. “DARYL!” Glenn called again. Her long lean strides quickly outpaced those few in the group who stood to chase her. They stopped, after a short jog, not wanting to leave the camp and not knowing Beth well enough for it to be worth it. Glenn would have given chase too, but he’d never catch her in all this gear. He kicked himself for always wearing it now. 

She was suddenly far ahead of all of them anyway, feet pounding the tracks, blood pounding her ears rhythmically with the baby’s wail. Daryl dashed up, all bloody hands, crossbow drawn and ready. 

“What is it?! Shit! I thought walkers were killing someone…” then he saw Beth’s blonde hair bouncing around the furthest corner of the tracks away from them. She was almost out of sight.

Immediately understanding, of course, he could hear the cries, too: “Beth!! Don’t!! Damn it…”

Daryl took off after her. In his mind he screamed at her: ‘Beth, there are plenty of animals that sound like babies!’ Goats, especially; some goat could be getting its throat ripped open by a bear and Beth’s just gonna run up on the scene and get mauled too! The sound was gone already, whatever it had been. Why was she still running? Damn, why doesn’t she think sometimes?! 

A smoker and an old man, he cursed himself for not being able to match her pace; even as he was gaining serious ground. If he could just grab her, shake some sense into her. They’d go together, cautiously. He would go with her to investigate things like this. Why hadn’t she just waited on him? Shit. She was around the corner and out of sight. “BETH!!!” 

\-------------------

After calming Judith with what little they had to offer, she snoozed slightly, quiet against Carol’s back. Munching on kudzu leaves, the two of them sat on ground, just looking out over the train tracks. 

Carol leaned her head against Tyreese’s massive left arm and shoulder; let the side of her body fall against his. Exhaustion, nothing more. 

“We’re alive,” he said, dumbfounded, “We actually lived through that.” 

In response, Carol cleared her throat. She was satisfied they made it, but naturally worried about Judy. 

Tyreese was very pleased, though. They were alive. The needs of the child made him forget their great fortune until just this moment.

“We can’t be far from Terminus,” he crooned, “We’re going to make it. Maybe even today!” 

In her swaddle, Judith must have felt some of what he felt because she let out a loud squeal of a happy sound. 

Beth heard it. A shrill baby’s laugh above all the rest of the world. She turned in Daryl's arms. Daryl turned too. He’d caught up to Beth. After the cries ceased for a minute or more, she’d collapsed in a heap, on her knees, panting. He’d reached her, kneeled, and grabbed her; no admonishments. He just silently held her tight. She rocked against him in utter anguish, gasping for air and too exhausted to cry. He held her as their breath normalized together. He held her until the laugh. 

Daryl couldn't deny it was a baby. Now… that didn’t mean it was Judith... 

Beth knew better. She grabbed his arm -hard- “JUDITH!!!!?” she shouted in a sob. She rose away from him and started exhausted-hobble-jogging towards the shed on the side of the tracks, not far up ahead. Daryl stood. There was nothing he could do but hope these people weren’t crazy protective of their kid. 

Carol saw her. 

Carol came around the side of the shed, where she and Tyreese had been sitting, obstructed from Daryl and Beth’s view… and saw her most beloved child and friend. 

“Beth!?!” All Carol’s hard, heartbroken resolve, since the murders of Mikka and Lizzie… shattered. It all crumbled away at the sight of those blond locks and that joyous face. After all the girls she’d lost, all the horrors of their repetitive deaths in her hallucinations. Here was a girl resurrected. Carol sobbed. Took a step forward. Tyreese just smiled and watched. 

Carol breathed: “Oh my God…” 

Then, in a gasp, she ran for Beth, Judith starting to cry, as Beth charged her, full tilt, crying and sobbing “Carol! JUDITH!!” the whole way. The two women collapsed into each other in a swinging, swaying embrace that brought them both to their knees. Running shaking fingers through Beth’s hair: 

“My girl… my brilliant, beautiful girl… how are you here? How are you _here_?! Oh thank God… Thank You God…!” Carol cried and cried into Beth’s thick ponytail. Beth was speechless, hiccupping and choking. She managed to gurgle: “Judith? My Judy?” Kneeling there, Carol pulled away just enough space between her and Beth to pull little weeping Judith around to her front. Beth and Carol held the baby together, four hands on Judith, marveling at her, cooing her. She calmed and smiled at them and reached a hand for Beth, fingers opening and closing in little grasps. 

“Oh, my baby, my sweet, sweet baby!” Beth cried. 

Daryl walked up, slowly, stunned. He and Tyreese exchanged the male version of Beth and Carol’s joy… nodding their heads stoutly at one another, smiling, chuckling together at the hysterical women. Carol let out a sudden and high pitched laugh, seeing Daryl standing there beside them. 

“Look at you!” and she locked loving eyes with Daryl. Glowing like he’d never seen her. 

“Look at you,” he smiled, and softly, “You saved Lil’ ass kicker for us.” 

“You saved Beth!” she beamed, hugging the girl close again. Daryl couldn’t resist and reached his hands out for the baby. Carol rose and placed Judith lightly in Daryl’s arms, as she’d done dozens of times before. It was like a dream, another reality, a better life. She coughed and cleared her throat just looking at them in disbelief. 

“Hey, there, my Lil’ass kicker,” Daryl cuddled her, letting her grab his index finger, “Hey… hey… you’re the bravest ‘n most badass of us all, ain’t you?” He couldn’t stop grinning as the baby smiled and burbled at him. 

Beth rose and leaned in close. Staring down at the baby together, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged, sniffling and giggling, still crying some. Daryl rested his cheek on the top of her hair; both of them lost in Judith’s eyes. 

Carol and Tyreese exchanged a glance. Wow. This was new. Daryl, Beth and Judith looked like a sweet, little family, huddled together against the whole of the Earth. 

Carol swallowed. Of course, it was okay, of course. She loved them both so much; so very, very much. She couldn’t be happier to have them back. Both of them. Never thought she’d see either again… and now she had both. No point worrying about them together. No cause for disappointment. Be happy for them. Be happy for yourself. Just, for the first time in God knows how long, just be happy! And she laughed out loud, to herself, to them. Just laughed, smiling and smiling. She hugged them both, pulled the whole makeshift family together, Tyreese too. 

They all stood there, still. Holding each other and feeling the safe, comfortable familiarity of all those memories they shared; embracing and breathing it in, without fear of the unknown, as the baby giggled and cooed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that Glenn and Maggie reunited on the show! 
> 
> Who should reunite next in _this_ story, before Terminus? 
> 
> 1\. Rick, Carl, Michonne w/ Beth, Daryl, Glenn, Carol & Tyreese (baby Judith gets her birth family back)?  
> 2\. Maggie and Glenn reunite in my story? Which also means Tyreese and Sasha together before Terminus!  
> 3\. I **don't** care, let's get back to the Bethyl romance, PLEASE? 
> 
> Also, can we all agree that Daryl reverting back to his pre-apocalypse self with a new Merle to follow around- and potentially get abused by- is pretty much the greatest tragedy the series has offered us thus far?! (perhaps second to Beth's kidnapping). :-(


	11. Happy Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shippers, rejoice!  
> Slow burning, out in the woods.  
> What would Smokey the Bear say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is on the grill, simmering!  
> You guys and your love are balm for a writer's soul!  
> This chapter has many AO3 authors to thank. Reading your lovely Bethyl sagas all week. Lots of good, gooey gold out there! Special thanks to **avulgaris** for inspiration on how Daryl  & Beth flirt and talk to one another!

Beth could hardly rip herself away from Judy and Carol. She settled so happily back into the baby’s morning routine and Carol’s nurturing companionship. But she missed Daryl. They’d barely spent any quality time together since their honeymoon in the house.

Not just sex, she missed talking to him the way they talked in the house. She missed that closeness; the intimacy of their alone time. She wanted to just lay next to him, partially naked, in the sun. Look at him. Listen to him tell a long, drawling story with no definitive purpose. He was sometimes pretty bad at telling stories. But it was so cute! She loved hearing them all the more for having to try and figure out the point. 

Although, speaking of sex, she’d woken up curled around the spot where Daryl’s body had been sleeping with her. He must have risen early to some task or another. Anyway, she woke to recognize the residue of her very first wet dream ever last night! She’d thought she had them a few times in the past, back home in her cozy bed on the farm. But no. Those were innocent virginal wet dreams, at best. This was the real deal. She was embarrassed and fumbled awkwardly to put on new underwear under the rough tarp they’d used for a blanket. She hoped no one noticed. 

\-----------

Glenn was fine with them staying at the camp by the concrete drainage creek another night or two. It was a good camp with lots of resources. Plus, Tyreese, Carol and the baby clearly needed to refresh and recover from their ordeal. Glenn’s spirits were high at discovering more prison survivors. He was beyond confident Maggie was just around the next bend. So confident, he’d tried to break away from the group and continue on his own. Daryl, Beth, Carol, Tara, pretty much everyone, objected. 

So, he sat and ate breakfast and made improvements to their makeshift minnow net. A necessity, they'd discovered. Daryl dragged quite a few minnows from the creek yesterday with just the shirt he was wearing. ‘That was a sight for the ladies!’ Glenn chuckled to himself. Glenn found it hilarious how clueless Daryl seemed to his own rabid sex appeal. Even Carol was flushed yesterday! The Sergeant hinted a bit of jealousy at Rosita’s reaction. How could he not? Glenn was almost glad Maggie wasn’t here for that display! 

All the women, even Tara- though she out of female comradery more than anything- gathered around the shore and silently watched half-naked Daryl scooping his own shirt through the water, straining it out, and dumping the caught minnows in a bucket. 

The women cheered the first time, but Daryl shushed them, angrily. Then they all sat quiet like hushed golfers watching the champion putt for a birdie. Daryl stood perfectly still, bent over in the middle of the creek, for long stretches, just crouching there, his hands in the water, clutching his shirt. The fabric flowed very lightly with the gentle current. The women would hold their breath as a school of minnows slid carelessly over the cloth. Daryl’s crackling reflexes snatched them up in a rain of water through the shirt. It was very hard not to cheer after the first time.

Rosita and Abraham ground the minnows, bones and all, into a fish paste. She then showed the others how to make an epic stew with the paste, some green onion weed, kudzu, everything else anyone gathered and threw in. A hot meal. Man. That really pulled Abraham's troupe and the prison survivors together as a family last night. Glenn couldn’t wait for Maggie to be part of all this. He smiled and smiled, working the minnow net and finishing his food. 

\---------

After her, uh, adventure in her dreams and the crime scene she’d hidden this morning, Beth was thrilled when Daryl wanted to go hunting and jumped at the chance to go with him. They’d finally be alone together! 

A ways into the woods, Daryl was just ahead of her. He’d already bagged two squirrels and wasn’t quite yet on the trail of a new quarry. She saw her moment to confess. 

Beth cleared her throat. “Ac’hem… I… uh…”

“Hmm?” he didn’t turn around, just gestured with a head-tilt that he was listening to her. 

“I had a wet dream last night!” she blurted, “it was about you… you know…”

Daryl snorted: “Better’a’been ‘bout me.” 

Beth scoffed indignation. “You dick!” 

“Uh-huh. My dick. Wot‘bout it?” 

And she shoved him, hard, in the back, pushing him a step or two forward in the crunchy leaves. He turned roughly and pushed her, too. “You wanna fight, little girl?” his smirk was devious. Spitefully playful, the way only Daryl could look. 

“No!! And _of course_ it was about you and your stupid dick, okay?” Beth huffed and smiled genuine embarrassment, her cheeks burning at his amusement. “You and that damn minnow fishing yesterday! God that was hot!” 

Before Beth could take a step closer, to seductively share just how hot she thought it was, Daryl changed. That quick mood swing she’d grown so used to. It shifted his stance and his features. 

“Stupid shit pissed me off!” Daryl scowled, “fucking’bunch o’giggling ninnies! Don’t they got better shit t’be doing?!” Beth ignored his anger. In her same playful voice: 

“What can I say? We don’t have TV anymore! The Daryl Show ~is~ pretty great, though. Four stars!” and she reached her arms for his waist. He backed off her touch, still frustrated. 

“Fuck all. Was embarrassin'. And you! Right along with’em. Encouragin’ that shit!” he glowered at her, all hot accusation. 

“You’re my man! And you were sexy out there in the water! And I don’t mind showing you off to my girlfriends one bit, Daryl Dixon! Guys can be arm candy too, you know?!” she wasn’t really getting upset. But she thought she better defend herself, just in case he got too riled and said some hurtful shit here soon. His shoulders sank a bit as he mulled her thoughts. Somewhere in those moments, he got around to the meat of what really bothered him:

“Fine. But you know I don’t like people seeing my... back, is all…”

Now she felt bad. But only just. She soothed: “Daryl. Darlin’. We were all facing the front of you anyway, and you turned yourself away a good bit. I don’t think anyone got a clear sight of your scars. The ladies were… well… preoccupied with the rest of you, lover.” She got her hands around his waist, then, smiling up at him. “Sides, to be honest, scars are sexy!” 

He nibbled on his lip, looking away with slant eyes. “Hmph.” He snorted. “Whatever. I can’t see’em that way. Never will. Just ugly shit from that ugly ‘ol asshole. S’all I see.” 

Beth thought a moment; trying to decide if Daryl was up for more teasing or if she should just leave it. She was so frisky right now! She felt confident enough to press on: 

“You hated them women looking you up and down so much? Why didn’t’cha fish minnows with your shirt on, huh?” she innocently smirked. He tried to jerk away, like she expected. Beth held his waist tight. Clamped around him; puppy dog eyeing up at him. 

He grumbled, near defeat: “Was using my shirt to fish…”

“You have other shirts!” she rocked his body side to side, a bit, best her little arms could, “You’re so shy, you shoulda’ fished with one of mine or Glenn’s! Or a piece of tarp, for that matter! Fish fully clothed like a normal person!” She had him cornered and knew he wouldn’t stand for it. He was either going to snap on her or… 

“Fine!!” with a rough laugh “Fine!! You ain’t even a bit jealous! R’ya?! Huh?” He lifted her up clear off the ground, raising her face to his. She thrust her arms round his neck, holding on. Daryl pressed his forehead aggressively into hers “Your man struttin’ bout n’ all them other girls lookin’ him all over…” he chomped teasingly at her lips before growling that bedroom-growl right in her face: “That what turns you on? Little Bethy Greene?” And softer, a whisper: “Huh? That what give you a wet dream ‘bout me?” 

Her face was so flush with anticipation and excitement, she couldn’t answer. The pressure of him holding her, suspended and trapped like this, was just the best. The fucking best. She savored it, stewing her own lustful juices; before boldly meeting his eyes: “Maybe!” 

“Uh-huh!” Daryl crowed, low and triumphant. He set her down on her feet and her arms lowered from his neck, down his chest to his stomach. Her fingers teased at the lip of his jeans.

“Not now, sexy,” he grinned, “we got a job to do, ‘member? Supose’ta be huntin’.” 

“I’ve got something you can pin down and kill,” her sultry voice and the joke itself were terrible, but she didn’t care. He straight-up laughed at her and she punched his side. “Shut up! What'da'you want me to say?!” and she mimicked sappy, slutty porno voices: “Oh! Take me NOW, Baby! Now!”

Daryl couldn’t resist. He mocked her girlish outburst from the night in the funeral home, squeaking: “I… I… want you to be my first!!” with his eyes locked on hers. Her whole face spit fire at him. 

“How dare you!?” she hissed, still smiling, “I was _very_ nervous back then! And I thought we were gonna just get busy right there on that couch, okay?” 

“Didn’t do yourself no favors with that bit, ‘sal I’m sayin’,” Daryl teased, “Think my dick got soft right on the spot!” 

“Nuh-uh!” she cried, “You chickened out! You were the one always stopping us back then!” 

“And why not? Huh?” he smiled, saddling closer to her again. “Was feelin’ like your creepy ol’ uncle or some perverted shit!” 

“Well, it ain’t like that now,” she soothed, sliding closer, herself. “Let’s never go back there again,” reaching her chin up for a kiss. Which he gave her, deep and soft, standing in the woods. 

She realized they hadn’t really just kissed like this in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and flowing leaves. It was nice. _Very nice._

She sighed contentment into his mouth.


	12. Really Happy Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another you can skip if you're not into smut. ;-)  
> Also, Daryl and Beth talk post-apocalyptic procreation logistics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't mind, check back on Chapters 1 and 2, which I'm in the process of rewriting so they match the tense and tone of the rest of the story. Let me know what you think!

Beth’s tongue was swollen in her mouth. She rolled it around some, trying, uselessly, to stop feeling the heat of him. Back there, Daryl’d kept right on kissing her. Must have been a whole half hour. Just sucking face in the forest! In a way, it was better than heavy making out, but not better than sex, of course. For that matter, she had no idea how Daryl was keeping it in his pants today! Stubborn redneck hunter. She scoffed. Saw him twitch a bit, hearing her frustration, but he didn’t turn. Of course. 

She breathed in the air of him on her skin. Things were different for them now than in the house. She accepted that. Now they had mouths to feed. Daryl was feeling obligated to satisfy more than just himself and his lover. She got that. She did. She sighed again. 

\----------------------- 

Daryl’s lips were blazing burnt, kissing Beth so hard and so much. Didn’t know how he was keeping it in his pants at this point, honestly. The hunt, he supposed. Gotta get more meat than this. So many damn mouths to feed. Couldn’t spend the day ruttin' in the woods with nothin’ to show for it. ‘Just wait a bit more, lover,’ he thought to himself, hearing her huff behind him. A bit more. Kill a believable amount of food and we’ll get right on that! Oh... He should actually be saying this out loud to her, huh? 

He squatted low, having heard something. Too late to talk, now. 

\-----------

Beth loved watching the concentration, the precision, the stern sexiness of his features in focus. He loosed a bolt and she caught her breath. The squirrel didn't even squeak. Taken clean out. The first few times she saw this, weeks ago, she let out a "whoo hoo!" of a cheer, praising him. And she was met with hard eyes. He'd scornfully scold her that she made too much noise and needed to shut the hell up. Now she was quiet. Now she stepped where he stepped, was one with him. She picked up the kills and bagged them.

With her hands and eyes, she silently noted any tracks or trails she spotted to him. He'd nod approval at her increasing skills. And they'd smile. This was like a silent, secret mission with special codes just for them. Hunting with Daryl was one of their most intimate affairs, nowadays. But she couldn't deny he'd built her up with that filthy mouth of his; both talking and kissing. She'd been missing talking to him. But not like that! She smirked, suddenly, at a new teasing thought. 

After he killed the possum they'd followed all day, she grabbed his shoulder. 

"You know what we've never done?" she coaxed. 

"Hmm?" still not really looking at her. 

"Had a quickie." 

"S'cuse me?" Daryl turned all the way around on her. 

"That's right. All those times in the house. Long and sensual stuff. Cuz you said we had all kinds of time. You didn't want to hurt me. Blah blah blah," goading him. She was so eager for this. 

Daryl, grinning, all devil-eyed: "Ave been takin' it easy on you?" He reached out and clutched her hip, "C'mere. We'll fix that." He ran kisses along her waist, pulling her down to him. "Gotta get back. Skin'n prep'em, all that shit."

He sat down hard in the leaves, legs spread out. He turned her around quickly and sat her in his lap, back to him, facing the forest. His arm was tight around her waist and he pulled his knees up. Rested the front of the crossbow on one knee. She tried to turn around and he stopped her. She chuckled. 

"Are you seriously going to try to keep hunting with me on you like this?" 

"Yer damn right. No use wastin' time." She shuddered at his words; at the way she felt him undo his jeans against her back. She reached for her own. "That's right," he said, "I dun need much, just get 'em down below those sweet cheeks of yours." Oh wow. She'd asked for it, alright. Her heart pounding and pelvis aching. He never talked to her like this before. His voice was a growling command, just a bit of tease in it. The sound of it met an urge in her she didn't know she had. The urge to be taken by him, hard, here in the woods. 

When he felt her naked rear, he raised her up to meet his member, adjusting her, close. He drew the crossbow up by both of their faces, looking down the sight. He lodged the butt in her shoulder and set the rest on his knee in front of her. He rose his hips, again, finding her quickly and unceremoniously jamming inside of her. 

She cried out and he bit the base of her neck for it. "Don't scare the game." Whispered flatly, like he wasn't even inside her, rocking her with his raging self. Tears actually spilled out of her eyes, she was so extremely into the intensity. 

She gasped the way he'd always wanted to make her gasp. The shock tremor through her body spurred him on.

Thrusting with his hips was hard in this position. Instead he butterflied his knees open and closed around her, forcing his pelvis to pivot in and out that way. 

Lost in the heat of her, Daryl discarded the crossbow. His playful plan to fire it around the time she came, forgotten. Instead, he clamped both arms in a cross over her chest, holding her own arms tight against her. Immobilizing her, controlling the movement of her upper body entirely in his own strength. He can lift her; make her rise and fall as he pleases. 

Beth gasped and groaned harder, trapped like prey in the clamp of him. It’s so exciting it’s almost nauseating. Her stomach roiled at his thrusts and the anxiety of being unable to move. The musculature of his arms, swollen and tense around her torso… it’s maddening how her own hands are locked in his embrace! She can’t wriggle her fingers free to feel that pulsing, taut skin! But she _can_ dig her boot heels into the ground in front of her. She does. Swiveling her hips and grinding into him, with the new force of bracing her lower half. She took some control of the situation. She made Daryl's head fall forward, gasping her name "Beth! Damn!" 

His grunting was forceful and sharp; sounding almost dangerous. Beth’s hips felt like they'd surely split apart at the power of him. He's so deep inside, she can’t help but shriek and he claps a hand hard over her mouth. Not that it matters. There’s not an animal in a mile radius that can’t hear the repetitive smack and slap of their bodies. As he started to shudder and quake beneath her, he thrust a hand down to stimulate her, but she shook her head violently. Beth was already there. She bit and gnawed on the palm of his hand. The roughest orgasm of her life welling from the base of her skull, at the height of her neck, all the way to her toes which curled into fists clutching her socks inside her boots. She gushed all over him, immediately self-conscious about his pants and her own. It’s going to look like they wet themselves! He bit into the back of her neck, along her spine, as he came hard- partially inside her- pulling out quickly, but not entirely in time. She felt the pulses of him inside, felt the sudden warmth of his gush. 

A final, almost singing, sigh escaped her at that last surprise. He pulled out hard and fast, leaving her aching for his return. With one hand he pushed her pants back up over her cheeks and with the other, buttoned himself up. She can feel the wetness on both of the fabrics. Oy. How were they going to dry off? 

“That what you wanted?” Daryl smiled, flopping onto his back. She leaned back, too. Laying on him, her head just above the bottom of his ribs. Both of them stared up at the sky in the sweet bliss of their satisfied lust. They breathed heavily together. The come-down washed over them. 

“I didn’t know,” Beth started, and then giggled at her own ignorance of what’d she’d asked him for. Daryl huffed that smug grunt of his. She could feel his smirk. 

“Well. Now you do.” He reached his hands down to hug her just under her breasts. She clamped her hands over his and squeezed. 

Hopefully someone else caught some fish or gathered some vegetation. At this point, if it was up to the Dixon/Greene team, the whole rest of the group was going to starve. Well. Three squirrels and a possum wasn't nothing.

They held each other there in the breeze and rustle of leaves. 

\-----------

Daryl felt amazing. They lay there for a long stretch. He almost felt he could fall asleep. Amazing and amazing. Then, suddenly, ashamed. 

“Shit. What’d’I just do?” he coughed. Beth stiffened, but didn’t turn over or move at all. 

“Hmm?” she queried. 

“Beth… sorry… bout cuming inside… that was so fuckin’ stupid…” 

“Daryl, don’t. No worries. Let me tell you something about women,” and still she didn’t move, just lay there playing with his hands, running her fingers up and down his, "I didn’t even know till the world went to shit... our bodies don’t want to make babies in an apocalypse. I haven’t had a period since once before the flu took the prison. That one must’ve been because I was comfortable there, felt safe at the prison for a while. And before that, I only had one semi-regular at home on the farm, after people started turning. Mine and Maggie’s both stopped not long after we all fled the farm. That whole horrible winter. We almost never got them at the prison. We asked Daddy ‘bout it. He said it’s normal for women to go sterile in prolonged intensely stressful situations. The hormones in the body signal us not to drop eggs. It don’t happen in just a quick stressed incident, like a rape. That’s why women get pregnant from rape. Infertility can happen to women who are long-term hostages. Some women in jails. Stranded on desert islands. Malnutrition, like what we all been going through, plays a part too. Going long stretches burning a million calories on adrenaline alone, eating maybe once every other day. That sort of thing." 

Daryl sighed appreciation into her hair. "Read a bit 'bout that in a book at the prison library. Din' know if it were true. _Song of Survival_ , the book was called. Women war prisoners in a Japanese camp on the Pacific Islands. They all quit bleeding, 'bout all at once. Never did again, till a couple years later, after they was released and back home."

Beth nodded. "Maggie and Glenn're only worried ‘bout babies cause she was getting her blood semi-regular at the prison. I might've had two the whole year there. Not a single one since. That means I’m not making babies, so no worries, kay?” 

“What if…” Daryl didn’t want to sound stupid, “What if all this screwin', not being a virgin no more, what if this all gets your body going like it’s spose’d to again? Maybe that’s why Maggie got more regular than you, cause she and Glenn was…” 

“What if the world ends?” Beth spat, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Fuck it, Daryl! Don’t cum in me again if you’re so damn worried about it! I didn’t ask you to! You know we ain’t been using condoms this whole time, right?! I coulda gotten pregnant before today! According to Sex Ed! That ‘pre ejaculate’ of yours is fertile too!” 

Daryl gave up. Her general knowledge of the subject matter was far greater than his anyway. And if she wasn’t worried about it, why the hell should he be? 

“Sorry, Beth. I’m sorry for worryin’ for nothin’, a’ight?”

“Right! Good!” she crossed her arms, “Judy was an effing miracle and I guess she only come round because Lori was settled and safe at that camp ya’ll were at before you found the farm.”

Daryl rubbed her shoulders, gently, apologetically. “Beth. S'okay. I din’t mean’ta…”

“Well!! You did!” She was getting weepy. She didn’t know why. Daryl thought he might. She was so maternal and loving with Judy… how could she not want a baby of her own some day? And what chance did she have, really? Slim to none, far as he could tell. He’d be a hell of a lot more careful from now on. And she obviously didn’t want to bring a baby up in all this. “I’m sorry too,” Beth sniffled, “Getting all school marm on you. I just didn’t think you knew…”

“I didn’t. Thank you for tellin' me.” He sighed and held her. Looking up at the waning afternoon sky. 

“Would we… would we keep it if I was?” she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Daryl smirked: “How could we not? No clinics open no more.” 

At her pained body-clench reaction, he softened. 

“Course, lover,” he whispered, “Course we’d keep it. Hope it don’t come to that, out here runnin’ like this. But do hope you get to be a Mama, if you wanna be. Someday later, sometime better’en all this.”

She shook and shivered and sniffled against him. “Daryl, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve probably _ever_ said!” her voice a dopey mess. 

“Nah, nah, hush,” he rubbed her softly, all over, far as he could reach. “Breathe, lover girl. It’ll be a’ight. Just to be sure, I won’t do that again. Just lost myself there in you, like that,” he blew out a breath, “Damn, girl, that was some fucking.” 

“Yeah,” she smiled, so…totally… satisfied. "Just what I wanted and didn't even know I wanted. Thank you, lover." 

He squeezed her. "Thank you. Always."


	13. Because, Of Course.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick, Michonne and Carl viscerally escape Joe and his men. 
> 
> Only to get locked in train car "A" at Terminus with Maggie, Bob and Sasha, who arrived just the day before. 
> 
> Will Daryl and Beth, their fellow prison survivors, as well as Abraham and his, be snared in the 'Community For All' trap as well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished a Re-Write of the first two chapters!! Fleshed out internal dialogue for their initial mini-smut. More mood-setting. Better suits them and who their characters are, I think. And I hope you will too!  
> Thank you for all the love! ~Sintina

"I'd hate to see the other guy!" Gareth smirked at Michonne's swollen black eye. 

"Yeah, you would," Michonne growled, taking her katana back after the little routine inspection. 

"Did he deserve it?" the man asked Carl, handing him his pistol. 

"Yes." Carl could still feel the big guy's weight against his back. The sound of that clinking belt-buckle coming undone haunted Carl every time he closed his eyes. His face stayed resolute and untrusting of these new men, too. Though, at first glance, the room full of people making 'Terminus' signs seemed very different than Joe and his men. Carl wished they weren't so outnumbered. Again. 

He wouldn't be pinned to the ground again if it came to fighting these people. He'd kill as many as he could. He'd bite through their windpipes the way his father had. What he told Michonne was the deepest truth he knew. He was a monster too. As he looked Gareth and his Terminus people up and down... Carl's blood simmered like only a teenager's can. He had an animalistic hunger to fight, if needed. Fight hard. And win this time. Like his father had last night. Like Michonne had against her friend and her own child's father. 

\---------------

"Of course, Terminus was a trap!" Bob exclaimed, exasperated and exhausted. "Because... just... of fucking course!" He never needed a drink so bad. If he could just drink all this pain and anger away, surely that would be better. Hell of a lot better than this. 

Sasha tried to calm him down. He'd been pacing the train car since yesterday when they were herded into it like cattle. He hadn't slept. He'd spilled all the food the Terminus people offered, all over the place, in a quiet fit of anger. 

Maggie sat silent with her head between her knees. Her arms were wrapped tight around her knees; her hands behind her head. Her fingers clenched in her hair. She pushed her leg muscles against her ears, so she couldn't hear anything but the whoosh of her own blood and breath. How could she be so stupid and naïve?! She'd left notes all over the place for Glenn to find her here! She hated herself, now. So much. This damn rail car was not where she wanted to reunite with Glenn. Would he even be put in the same car if they captured him? 

Bob and Sasha stood, suddenly, all attention. Craning their necks, they gripped the few slits on the side of the car where you could see through. Gun shots rang throughout the compound and the factory buildings. Maggie didn't get up. Her fingernails dug harder into her scalp. She clenched her eyes tightly; ground her teeth. This was unbearable. 

"They're running someone this way!" Sasha hissed, "Have to be! Just like they did us!" 

Maggie thrust a hand behind her and smashed the steel wall of their prison with the side of her balled fist, as hard as she could. A rage like nothing she'd felt since before she shot the Governor in the face was rolling through her. What now? She beat the wall again. Who was it going to be now? And what happens to all of them eventually? The pain from her fist beating the wall reverberated up her bones to her shoulder. It felt good, in a horrible way. What the fuck was this maddening nightmare life she was living now?!

\--------------------

"Ring Leader! Samurai! In that order!" shouted Gareth from the rooftop. 

"That's Rick and Michonne!" Bob called over to Maggie. She twitched, but still didn't rise. There were only two names Bob could call out that would unglue her from that spot. And she expected neither of them.

"At least we know others from the prison survived!" Sasha sighed, raggedly. "If only we could tell them all not to show up here, one by one, like this!" 

Why did Maggie leave all those stupid notes?! She knew Glenn was coming for her. God, please keep Glenn and Beth far away from here, she prayed. 

\--------------------

Glenn was up in a tree, watching the whole thing unfold in horror. The others were a ways off down the tracks, in the woods, waiting on his report. Terminus troops hugged the fence, so he couldn’t jump down and warn the others yet. He’d fought Daryl so hard on scouting the place out before going in. Now he thanked God for Daryl’s distrust of everyone outside their own. He clutched Hershel’s watch in his pocket, sweat making the fine metal slippery in his fingers. He rolled it around his palm and between his knuckles within the confines of the pant material. The only movements Glenn's anxious body could safely make, without the troops on the ground hearing. Perfectly still, he sat. So still he was sore everywhere; except for his one hand, twirling the watch, in his pocket. He wet his lips over and over. Barely breathing. 

\--------------- 

“Daryl, she’s in there. I _know_ she’s in there!” Glenn ranted in Daryl’s face. 

“I believe ya, man! But we can’t go in guns’ blazin’! You know that!” Daryl was all white hot frustration and stewing rage. This sucked. The whole situation sucked. 

“What a freak show," Abraham growled, "This kind of thing is why it’s so important to get Eugene to Washington! We shouldn’t have taken this detour at all.” 

Rosita's anger snapped: “We thought they’d have supplies to get us to DC! Remember? It’s not Glenn or Daryl’s fault! They couldn’t have known this place was a death trap!” 

“I can’t believe it,” Beth shook her head, “I can’t believe the way we did things at the prison, taking people in, was so rare out here in the world.”

“Believe it, sweet heart,” Carol chided, “There’s nothing else to believe in anymore.” She was mad. Carol would never tell anyone, but she’d wanted so much to trust in Terminus; for Terminus to be what it claimed. Seeing Glenn's face as he came back with the news made Carol's eyes sting. Now she kept them mostly shut.

“Alright, look,” Daryl grumbled, “It is what it is. We got to get our people out. We can’t do it like we are now. We need a base of operations. Somewhere to keep Judy," he glanced up at Abraham, "...and Eugene... safe and away from the fighting. Gotta scout out around here and find a place, even a temporary one. Build up and start planning how we’re gonna get ours out of that railcar down there,” 

Everyone’s attention turned to the dusty red train car with the giant letter A. Glenn had waited until the guards’ rotation returned to its usual minimal before coming down from the tree. He’d run to tell the others about the situation. Then led them along the least guarded perimeter fence, which happened to overlook the very lot where train car, turned prison cell, "A" stood. 

Beth was hollow, looking down. It was like that book they made her read in high school. The Scarlett Letter. Here were their people… Rick, Michonne and Carl, for sure. Stranded, away from society, and those they loved, inside a crimson letter A. Who knows who else was in there? 

She shuddered at the thought of Maggie pent up like a caged animal. Maggie wouldn’t do well with that. Beth knew her sister would be pounding the walls down by now. She hung her head. Glenn was so certain Maggie was in there, trapped. 

As if in answer to Beth's thoughts, Glenn began fuming again. Maggie was so close to him, now. Just a hop over the fence and into the yard and he’d run up to the door and swing it open and free her! Just like that. It didn't have to be hard. Why was everyone making it so hard?

“Ideally, we need vehicles,” Rosita said, “How else will we make a clean get away?” 

“She’s right,” Tara stood up. She’d been scrapping the dirt with a stick in an absentminded rough sketch of the compound, “unless we want to do this covert ops, in the middle of the night. All ninja-like.” 

“We could do that, Daryl!” Glenn said, pleading. “That's how you and Rick got us out of Woodbury!" His face was aglow, "You and me, quick and quiet, in and out.” 

Daryl considered a moment. Sure, that might work, but what if he and Glenn got thrown in that damn A car too? Then the group was down two of its best… plus Abraham might have enough leverage to convince his lot to bail. Carol, Judy and Beth would be left with just Tyreese. Not that Carol couldn’t handle it. Nor Beth either. And Tyreese was a tank. But damn. Not good enough. Not a strong enough plan. This is why it sucked being Rick's right hand. Now Rick was gone, Daryl became the de facto Rick. He remembered how long they considered the plan to spring Glenn and Maggie from Woodbury. Hadn't taken much convincing, really.

Glenn grew impatient with Daryl’s silence and shoved one of his shoulders “Daryl?! We need to stop standing around and DO something!” 

Daryl glared hard, “You wanna go get yourself trapped or killed, be my fucking guest, Glenn!”

“Check this out!” Abraham had stormed away a bit, but came quietly and quickly back to the group, waving them to follow. They followed many yards, cautiously. He’d dug up a bit of fresh earth and leaves he’d thought looked suspicious. “Look,” he opened the blue and white duffel bag, buried none too deep. 

“Damn,” Daryl breathed, looking back up at the yard inside Terminus’ fence. Carol came over, peering in. 

“Isn’t that one of Rick’s guns, there? Aren’t those semi's from the prison armory?” Her question confirmed what they all already knew from Glenn's report. Rick and the others were inside. At least they'd been smart enough to leave a bug-out bag, in case things got out of hand. Apparently, they'd never imagined just _how_ out of hand Terminus could be.

“There’s perimeter guards coming!” Tyreese hissed, plodding back through the trees, crunching leaves too loudly. 

“We gotta move,” Daryl swung his crossbow up, cocking it quick. He grabbed Glenn’s shoulder “We’ll get them back, brother. I promise. I swear. We ain’t leavin’ them.” 

Glenn nodded, raised his own weapons. Tyreese scooped up the duffel bag and slung it over one shoulder. The group created a large formation, moving rapidly back to the tracks and beyond; into the forest across the other side. Glenn kept his eyes trained in the direction of Terminus, the whole time. Didn’t look away when they all stopped together to catch their breath. Just stared out to where he knew his wife was waiting for him. 

The brush around their original hiding place rustled off to the right. Eugene came running up, baby Judith strapped to his chest and mewling an impatient whine. The group agreed the two most precious pieces of cargo ought to be left together when everyone else went for further investigation of Terminus. Eugene didn't mind carting a baby with him to DC, if that's what was needed to complete his mission. 

“They could easily of heard us,” Daryl said. “We got to find a place to lay low and find out if they’re following. How far out from their little sanctuary they venture each day. Some recon on their guard shifts: where they stand, how many, how often they change shifts?”

"Did you guys do all that for Woodbury when you came after me and Maggie?!" Glenn complained. 

"No Glenn. We didn't." Daryl clenched his fists, "But we had Michonne who'd been goddamn livin' in Woodbury for a month by then!" he hollered, patience completely gone. 

"Babe, relax," Beth soothed, "I want to get in there and get my sister back as much as Glenn does. We got to do this together, all of us. Or it's not gonna work out so well as when you rescued her last time, okay?" Daryl was immediately calmed. With a simple grace of his hand against hers, he thanked her; resting his eyes on her only a moment. Beth smiled love and support up at him with all her heart. "We can do this, everyone," she said, in a stronger, more commanding voice than anyone had heard from her before. "And I think we can do it soon as tomorrow!"

"She's right," Daryl said. "Just need to find a place to operate from. A place to regroup and get ready." 

Nods and approval worked around the group. They remembered the last potential settlement they'd seen near the tracks. As a unit, they turned and headed that way.

Terminus didn't know. Terminus wasn't ready for Daryl Dixon and Beth Greene protecting and saving their own.


	14. Ninja!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a thief in the night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Promise I wasn't idle all this time! If you haven't read No Car's prelude, the little lark "Snow White in Reverse," I hope you will read it and let me know what you think!! It ends within minutes of Chapter One of this work.  
> Settle in with a snack and your beverage of choice. This is my longest chapter ever!!  
> Love you all! ~Sintina

"They come in once a night to feed us and switch out the waste bucket, huh?" Rick said to Bob as he walked around the train car, looking out each of the slats in turn. Over and over again, he took in each vantage point around them. He carried the bowl of watery condensed milk, over cereal, in one hand; mostly ignoring it. Rick couldn't believe he'd slept through the events of last night. His exhaustion finally hit him, hard, once the shock of finding some of their own in the train car wore off. Collapsing after nearly 48 sleepless hours, the sheer depletion consumed his muscles and senses. 

But when he woke with a painful jolt like fighting off another attacker, there was a bowl for him and Carl. Plus, the stench of the waste bucket in the corner was replaced by the sharp chemical smell of a fresher bucket. It was filled with a blue fluid causing fumes that burned his eyes. Sasha and Maggie assured him the burning mostly went away as soon as someone used it.

"Just the once," Bob replied, "Just like last night. That's the only time they open that door," wringing his hands as he spoke. 

"We heard others in there, crying out," Rick continued, "Is there some sort of dungeon inside the factory?" 

"What?!" Maggie exclaimed. "There are more prisoners inside? What the hell are these crazy assholes doing here!?" 

"We may not be able to find out..." Rick soothed, to quiet her, "We need to worry about gettin' out ourselves. That's our only concern." 

"There were just four of 'em last night," Michonne reported. She'd been awake, of course. "Two came in, one with food had a couple of pistols and a knife, at least. One switching out the bucket, had two machetes and a shotty. Two stood outside, at the bottom of the stairs, facing the door, heavily armed. The bucket guy was in and done, less than a minute. After passing the bucket down to the others outside, he covered the feeder as she made the rounds to each of us. Whole thing, door unlatched, to all of them gone... less than three minutes, tops." She chewed on something unseen as she spoke in low frustration.

"Do we know if there's guards on the roof when they do this? Other patrols outside within view?" he looked over to Bob, Sasha and Maggie, hoping for insight from their longer stay in this place. 

"Honestly, Rick..." Sasha began, dejected, "We didn't do much recon before you got here." 

"Sorry," Bob sighed, "Maggie and I've been too busy being pissed and sorry for ourselves. While Sasha's had her hands full just dealing with us. Things spiraled out of control, here. I mean, we were fine on the road! But we thought we'd be even better here. We all expected other prison survivors to be here. Of course we all thought _maybe_ Terminus was a trap! But we just didn't think things could go so shitty so many times in a row! You know?!" He voice broke and became a pained laugh: "We thought we'd catch one god forsaken break!" and his eyes were wide and wild. Bob began to pace again and Rick let him. 

Maggie grunted from her resumed position on the floor with her face in her knees.

"Dad. There's more of us than them. We can take'em! Tonight! Six to four is great odds!"

"You're right, son. But we don't know what's waiting for us once we take down those four, do we?"

Carl raised his voice: "Better'en sitting around waiting for them to cook and eat us or whatever freaking shit these people do!" 

Bob interjected: "I mean why keep us captive?! If they're so concerned with their insular little freaking nirvana... why not just kill all of us on sight? Right?"

"We're not dying here like this, Dad," Carl stood up and tossed his empty paper bowl against the wall.

"No, we're not, Carl," and Rick rested a hand on his son's shoulder, giving Carl the acknowledgement eyes, "But we're not gonna try'n break out at the first opportunity, neither. Not 'fore we know what we'll find after we get down those steps." 

"I won't be the victim again, Dad. This time I'm fighting and killing some of these bastards with you." Carl's eyes were hatred and fire. 

"Yes you will," Rick affirmed. He couldn't admonish Carl. Not now. Not after what almost happened to him. The boy deserved revenge against this horrible world that ruined his innocence and stole his childhood. Maybe Carl deserved to be the monster he thought he was. At least in some circumstances. There was a line to be drawn, of course. A line before Carl grew up and became what he was fighting against. Turned into the Governor or one of Joe's men. It was up to Rick to draw that line for his son in the years ahead. That was the only fathering he had left to give. But that line was not here. Not in Terminus. Here, Rick knew his son needed to fight for his life and the lives of his loved ones. And he admired and respected the truth of it. "Yes you will, Carl," he said it like an oath. 

\----------------------

"Fingers like this," Abraham corrected Tyreese's practice grip on an imaginary victim's neck, "There. Then pull with this hand, twist with that one... and neck snap!" he boomed his final instructions a bit too enthusiastically. Daryl and Tara showed the others their own brand of quick, quiet take-down and knock-out techniques for the perimeter guards at Terminus. Daryl's suggestions were a bit more feral. Tara and Abraham actually had military training. Most people were focused on them. When Glenn and Rosita repeatedly asked them for more specifics, Beth snickered as Daryl got the hint and gave up. He shoved her in the shoulder, playfully. 

They'd found a useful pickup and one car at the nearest homestead to Terminus. They'd driven about 10 miles up the road closest to the train tracks until they came upon a mega church. The massive, new-age "rock and roll" type house of worship, became apparent through the trees. It was a sprawling campus. They parked their vehicles just off road, and walked to the church through the woods. As they approached, you could make out a gymnasium, an outdoor basketball court, playground, and several potential sleeping quarters, office spaces and the like, branching off the main congregation hall, which was a mansion onto itself. Best part, though, once they got around the parking lots, splitting into two groups to hit walkers along the perimeter, they came upon the small, barely-two-lane, back road leading to the church… and a nice-sized lake across that road!! 

"Must be manmade," Abraham said, "That could mean it was stocked back in the day."

"There's no way this place wasn't a sanctuary for people after the outbreak," said Eugene. "Highly probable it's been picked clean. Or, there's some serious carnage in there," he paused, "Most likely both."

Considerable searches discovered plenty of "both." The group was satisfactorily shocked to find caches of food left in the church's two kitchens. As well as means of cooking. There was a fire place already arranged in one of the restaurant-grade ovens. Someone had stripped its mechanics and used it as a wood-burning stove! Even rigged up a ventilation pathway, as that kitchen was on an exterior wall, anyway; easy access for the smoke to get outside. This must have been quite the fortress, before whatever caused the carnage went down. They found a few boarded up rooms full of a dozen or so easily dispatched walkers. Found some obvious suicide victims. The men cleared out most of this, taking them outside to the mega church's equally impressive graveyard. 

The women inventoried the remaining kitchen stock, as well as other useful items in the outside sheds, the garage, nursery, bathrooms, library and laundry areas. Beth found a small, blank, pocket notebook with Bible verses on the top of each lined page. A new diary! She hugged it close and tucked it in a side pocket of her pack. That week alone with Daryl in the house, she’d basically filled every page of her old pink one with the adventures of their new and amazing coupledom. 

"No cars." Glenn said when everyone was reassembled.

"Tracks, tho," Daryl said, "Left in a hurry, like we did from Hershel’s farm, takin' all the vehicles. Hell. Might'a been the same herd drove'em off." 

"There's enough bunks for all of us, plus your people from Terminus," reported Tara, adding: "The mattresses are soft, still! Not many with blood or anything else messing them up."

After unloading gear, a few took their two vehicles to scrounge for gasoline and more transportation in the nearest town. They were successful in more gas and one more vehicle. This was shaping up fairly well. Next, it was time for a scouting mission back around Terminus. Daryl suggested a mile wide radius, in teams of three, watching any activity around the compound. This completed by the time the sun was setting, Glenn and Tara agreed to spend the night in trees outside the fence surrounding the yard in which train car “A” stood. They would try to learn everything they could about the overnight watch crew. What went on and where and how. After each took a nap, they grabbed crackers, water and bags of coffee beans with them, to stay alert.

Now, the prior day and night’s preparations complete, a plan was formulated to get in, get out, tonight, quick and quiet. Everyone was practicing covert fighting operations. Because quietly taking down perimeter guards was a very different business than killing packs of geeks. 

Carol fumed at Tara: "I'd rather subdue them with my knife than my hands," frustrated at her tiny fingers and what she perceived as weak wrists. 

"We know," Tyreese growled, without thinking. Carol shot a hurt and shocked look his way. Each of the prison survivors seized up, waiting for the fallout. Everyone knew by now. There was no longer a secret about why Carol was kicked out of the prison. Even Abraham and his heard the tale. Tyreese didn't realize what happened until the silence lasted a beat too long and he looked up at Carol. "Wait! No! I didn't mean... You're just a bad ass with a knife, we all know that..." He looked accusingly at the others, "I forgave her!" He reached out and gave Carol a quick, over the shoulder, one-arm hug. "Forgiveness is real for me. I don't snap on women after giving them my word," then he looked down at her, directly, "I was really trying to compliment your knife play." 

Carol broke the tension and shoved at him, "Yeah. Of course. You know I'd cut you... for messing with me." She smiled her guarded, but genuine, closed-lips smile up at him. The others got back to their instructions and practices, while she got lost in thought. Carol clutched her knuckle-knife combo at her side. It always made her feel safer, stronger. Though the blade was a constant reminder of what Rick and everyone else considered her crimes. She'd never forget how easily this very blade cut into the sick and dying skulls of her two friends. If she could do it to them, she could take down two Terminus guards in her sleep. Daryl came over and put a reassuring hand over her fist that clutched the blade.

"We all killed people," he soothed, clutching her hand in a single quick squeeze. "M'ember the 3 questions. Far as I'm concerned, you still pass."

"Thank you, Pookie," she whispered, almost misting up, and twitching her fingers responsively against his. He squeezed one more time and walked back over to a smiling Beth. The two of them examined a crude map Tara made of the Terminus compound. Had Beth sent him over here to comfort her? Nah. It was better to imagine Daryl came on his own. Whether it was true or not, that's what Carol chose to believe. Her body vibrated with a quick memory of their shared secret at the prison. She enjoyed the images and recalled sensations. But she was also quick to bury them. Daryl belonged to someone else and he'd never been hers to begin with. 

But I did like him first, she smirked, another of their recurring jokes from back in the day. She'd have to chide him with it again sometime. He'd always know it was true. They'd always have the tower and their shared history of pain and abuse at the hands of drunken assholes. She'd always have a comrade, a friend, a brother in arms in that man, Daryl Dixon. That would be enough. It was already enough. She sheathed her knuckle-blade. 

Rosita saddled up to her, reading her mind. "He's something else, right?" gesturing towards every woman's late night fantasy and his glistening arms. 

Carol smiled, then noticeably eyeing Abraham up and down, "You're not doing too bad, yourself, you know?" 

Rosita laughed out loud, "I can't deny it!" Then her voice lowered, "Do you have any more knives like that one? I love it. Where did you get it?" 

Carol turned to fully face her, "I've had it a long time, feels like, but I guess only six months or so. We found it in a bike shop, Daryl and I, on a run," she pulled it out and twisted it idly. The two women blinked as the blade glinted in the sun. "I do have others, though not like this one. You can borrow them. And I can give you some knife lessons if you want," 

"Of course! Tyreese is right. You are a bad ass with that thing. It's so empowering to see you just charge up to walkers and smash through their skulls with a bladed fist! I wish I had half your balls," she sighed, "Maybe things woulda been different, before I met Abraham..." 

"Beth told me about your past. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all do what we have to, to survive." Rosita was surprised at Carol's candor. She nodded firmly, in real appreciation of the honesty and respect emanating from Carol's demeanor. How nice. She'd encountered too many judgmental women before. 

That evening, the two of them practiced knife slices, stabs, defenses and attacks. Rosita felt like a comic book warrior, dual wielding blades. There was just something about a knife. Different than a gun. Different mindset. Finally satisfied with herself, at least enough for the one, maybe two, people she was expected to get the drop on later tonight, with Abraham's help, no less; Rosita said her good evenings to Carol. Before she left, though, she turned, smirking: 

"I know what I need tonight. To loosen up before the stress of the rescue..." with steam in her eyes and sultry implication on her lips. Carol only laughed. 

"Go! Break off a piece while you can! In honor of those of us who can't," she sniggered, her own eyes flashing at the thought of how good that would feel right about now.

"Hey, hey. Don't sell yourself short, lady," and Rosita's eye line darted toward the group to their right. Carol hated that she had to really turn her body around to see what Rosita was implying, but curiosity won out and she fully turned to look. There, with his back to her, in that too-small tank top, barely holding in his glimmering, massive musculature was Tyreese's upper body, and his lower body, and just... him. Carol's eyes sparkled at the possibility. She'd never looked at him before, really.

Well, why not? He'd tried to get close to her at the grove before he'd learned her secret, with that comforting hug and all the talk of settling down in the house. They were more than comrades since Lizzie and Mika, their shared night with Carol's demons and the cannibals. He was so gentle with the baby. Why the hell not? She turned back to Rosita and smirked another of her closed lipped smiles, full of appreciation. 

Rosita knocked her chin up in confirmation: "Yeah, I'd hit that."

Carol exhaled a "hah" of a laugh and watched Rosita saunter off, satisfied in her match-making. 

\--------------------

"We head out of here around 2. We get in there 230-3am. The darkest part of the night. When the second overnight shift is at its smallest, its least effective and most tired," Glenn explained, pointing out their ingress routes. They were a large force, overwhelming for the six night guards Glenn observed in the wee of hours of that very morning. Glenn was practically asleep now, standing before them. Having been up the entire night, napping as the sun rose, then awake for all of the silent take-down lessons and infiltration strategy sessions. 

They'd take two vehicles. Leave one as a getaway for Eugene and Judith, if needed. Park on the train tracks, as close as they could safely get. Everyone goes in. In teams of two. There were four quadrants of guard paths, three teams would take out two guards in each of the three quadrants surrounding "A" car, and get out. The team in the central quadrant, where "A" was, had only to sneak in, dodge any surrounding guards, and get under the train car itself. There, they'd lie in wait for the feeding shift of four to leave the rail car. When those four left, almost all attention in Terminus turned away from "A". Naturally, as the greatest chance for the prisoners' escape was in those moments when the four feeders had the door open. So, just afterwards, the coast seemed clear and all other guards throughout Terminus began to busy themselves with other things and turn their attention to other vantage points in the compound. That would be the moment Glenn and Tara would get the door open as quietly as possible, sneak the prisoners out; crawling underneath the train car and making a break for the fence. The roof guards wouldn't have quite the range to get them and the other three quadrants' guards should be taken out by the time of their dash for the fence. 

However, in case Rick, and whoever else was in the car, attempted a break out tonight, the two under the train car will be there for them. They'll roll out from underneath and supply the leverage their friends need to escape. But in order for that possibility to even be remotely plausible, the other three teams of two needed to take down their respective sets of guards. So everyone had to be fast and confident. Alert and also, deadly, if needed. Each of them had different ideas about knock-outs versus just simple, quiet kills. Did the Terminus guards really deserve to mercilessly die? It was a debate they didn't have time for. Those who chose to kill would just have to take it up later with those who chose knock-outs. 

The four teams were: Carol and Tyreese, Beth and Daryl, Glenn and Tara, Abraham and Rosita. With Tara and Glenn being the central quadrant, the rescuers of train car "A". Their lives depended on the success of the other three teams in taking down their various quadrant guards.

\-----------------------

Rick’d seen everything he needed to see. Despite his warnings to Carl about trying a break for it at their first opportunity, he’d kept watch throughout the night; taking in the possibilities. The moon was high above them. The feeder and bucket guy would be here in another hour or two. He watched the pattern of their captors. There were roughly four guards who made rounds out near their yard. Two, at least, outside the fence above and around them. Around six, total, then. He couldn’t see to the roof. That was the only real weak spot in any escape attempt. Anyone up there with a line-of-sight would end their freedom, maybe their lives, very quickly. Rick’s thoughts were suddenly broken by his son’s whispered exclamation: 

“Dad! Let’s dump the bucket of filth on the first one through the door! Pour it down the stairs onto the others!”

“What is this? Home Alone?” asked Maggie, all indignation, from her spot on the floor. The others were in and out of sleep, except Carl, Rick and Michonne. 

“Seriously!” Carl turned on her, “The four of them will be caught off guard, may lose their footing too. We can disarm them, shoot and stab them. Whatever we can! Then jump over and through them, down the stairs, and make our break for the fence!” 

“Good thinking, Carl," Rick supported him, "But what about the roof men with rifles?”

Michonne spoke up: “Soon as we’re outside, we dive under this thing,” she stamped her foot on their prison floor, “Solid steel. Perfect cover.” 

“I like that!” Rick crowed; his hoarse voice hitched with real excitement at the prospect.

“One of us might get hit before we all get underneath,” Michonne’s words were low breaths, “But it won’t be all of us. Plus, we can use the four Terminus people at our door as human shields. It’s our best shot, Rick. Don’t matter whether we try it tonight or any other night, it’d go the same.”

“Well, ‘cept tonight is the night they’d be expecting something from us. It’s our first night in here.” 

“No,” Sasha corrected, standing up, “Your first night was last night. Ours was three nights ago. Maybe they think we’re the types of prisoners resolved to our fates by now.” 

“Either way,” Maggie finally stood, all clenched fury, “we can’t wait around for our bodies to weaken on this nothingness diet they’re feeding us! We can’t wait around for them to do whatever they’ve kept us alive for,” she looked approval down at Carl, tipping the brim of his hat forward, “Now we got a plan, thanks to you.” She looked up at the others: “We need to do it as soon as possible!”

“No matter what,” Rick smiled, “just make it over the fence. I got a bag of weapons stashed over there. By a large tree, to the left of here, about 20 yards along the fence. Whoever makes it to that bag, get those weapons out! Get us all armed. We fight our way out through the forest.”

“Where are we going?” Bob asked, still mostly asleep in the corner.

“Away from Terminus,” Michonne answered, “That’s for damn sure.”

\----------------------

Glenn and Tara lay flat and still under train car “A”. Though they couldn’t speak, they exchanged looks from time to time; letting the other know something big was coming. Something was about to happen. There were six sets of footsteps clanging around inside the train car above them. Everyone was awake and active in there. Something was dragged from the corner of the rail car towards the door. Glenn and Tara could barely make out hushed conspiratorial voices. 

Tara’s eyes pleaded with Glenn for some suggestion of what to do now. Should they spring the rescue early? Before the feeder crew comes? Glenn only shook his head very slowly at her, patting his hand gently against the ground as an order to stay where they were and stick with the plan. 

It all happened at once. The feeders came. The door slid open. 

Glenn and Tara’s senses were flooded with the smell of sewage as it exploded out and down the stairs. The two Terminus people standing in its way slipped and fell off, a mess of kicking legs and flailing arms. The one with the food immediately spilled all the bowls of milky mush while she slammed backwards into her counterparts at the bottom of the stairs. The one carrying the burning blue chemical bucket fell off to the side, landing with his chest sandwiching the bucket to the ground so hard it burst blue toxicity everywhere and all over Glenn’s forearm, under the train. The bucket guy cursed and blood spurted from his mouth at the impact of his chest with the ground and shards of his cargo. Blue chemical spilled from his eyes, nose and mouth. He was staring right at Glenn!

Tara rolled sideways and kicked a leg out; knocking the only standing Terminus guard, covered in milky cereal and sewage, down to the ground. She raised her knife and stabbed the winded guard in the knee cap, disarming him of his three weapons with her other hand and deftly rolling back under the train as he screamed. There, she discovered a dark woman with dreads, crawling on her belly, true guerilla militant style, toward the other side of the train car, the fence and freedom. A young boy in a wide hat was crawling, more like a young boy, right on her heels. 

Glenn was kicking the bucket guy’s face in, from under the safety of the train. There were still two more of the feeding crew, Tara thought, looking back to attack. But then she saw more escapees, a thin black man and woman, dive out of the train car and over what appeared to be the bodies of the other Terminus people left on the stairs. Followed quickly by a woman that could only be Glenn’s Maggie. She fit his description of Maggie so well. The Sheriff man Tara knew as Rick Grimes, who stood face to face with Brian during the attack on the prison, was the last out. He stomped the faces of his captors on his way down the stairs, for good measure. 

Then shots rang out from above. Rick dove under the train on Tara’s side. Maggie on Glenn’s.

“GLENN!!” Maggie screamed, tackling him, as they rolled over one another, away from the bullets coming from the rooftop of the closest building. “How in the hell?!” she cried, laying on top of him and raining kisses all over his face.

Beth heard her sister. "Daryl!" she whispered joyously, "She's here! Glenn was right! He found her at last!" 

"Yeah, I heard," Daryl whispered back, "She's too damn loud!" He raised a hand and they spread apart a little ways, each of their backs to a different out-building, facing each other across a walkway. Shots may be firing, but he held up a single finger, telling her to keep scanning and try to find their missing mark. They'd dispatched with the first before the commotion. And they couldn't just assume their second went running toward train car "A". 

As Beth got to the corner of her building, the man grabbed her from behind. Daryl didn't see him slip out of the dark. Beth didn't hear him, either. Daryl's crossbow was up, but aimed at _her_ face, as the man lifted Beth enough to use her as a shield for his own head. Before Daryl could take another breath, Beth lurched her shoulders forward in her attacker's grasp, and smashed her head backwards into his face, clearly shattering his nose. He sputtered, rather than shouted, thank goodness, and while Daryl wanted to shoot the guy with a bolt, Beth immediately took care of him with a boot heel in his crotch. The man doubled over, dropping her and heaving a bit like he'd retch. Beth kicked him there again. He did spew a bit of whatever he'd eaten earlier. When he was down on the ground all the way, Daryl charged over and clocked his temple with the butt of the crossbow, knocking him clean out.

Looking relieved and impressed at his Beth, that moment, a trigger pulled within Daryl Dixon.  
An acknowledgement of a feeling he'd maybe, possibly, thought he felt before this exact minute.  
But brushed aside or renamed as something _anything_ else.  
Now it was sure.  
Sure as his knife quietly cutting through the third man they suddenly encountered as they exited their quadrant of Terminus' late night resistance.  
Sure as Daryl's hand grasping hers after the two of them scaled the chain link fence and landed with gentle thuds on the other side.  
Sure as running silently, the way only a hunter and his lover could run, hand-in-hand, through the trees and the starlight.  
Back to the get-away vehicles. Back to safety. Sure as surety itself.

Daryl Dixon was in love with Beth Greene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Love. My. Readers. Thank you guys so much for the chance to share the experience of writing Bethyl with you.  
> Seriously, this whole thing has just been transformative for me and my life. I can't thank you all enough.  
> Last chapter's coming VERY soon! Expect a long one, with fluff, smut and *hope* for the long summer lull between TWD seasons! Hugs ~Sintina


	15. So Many Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone feels something.  
> Fear, shock, relief, lust, anger, love...  
> And -oh- the argument about what to do next!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Note on Maggie: I gave her mild panic disorder. Whenever she's having an out-of-character emotional reaction in this chapter, it's because she's having a mild anxiety or panic attack. It clouds your rationale and paralyzes the ability to see a logical end to your fears.  
> Also, makes you feel like an emotional freak, like a 14 year old girl again! Not fun, but realistic, for Maggie's AU situation here; not finding Glenn before being locked up- a prisoner for the 2nd time! She'd naturally be afraid and keyed up, still. Here, Maggie's had no real relief at any point since the prison! Poor thing.

Fourteen people in one car and a pickup was a bit of a squeeze. 

Everyone came running from the woods at once; except Carol and Tyreese, who were each in the driver's seat of a vehicle, waiting. 

They'd dispatched their assigned guards along the fence quickly, never entering the compound proper. They shared a moment of quiet relief when they reached the get-away cars. Ty and Carol weren’t exactly physical with one another yet- but they did linger longer than usual in their celebratory hug. Carol leaned in, and pulled her head back to look up at him; lips slightly open, eyes slightly closed. Curious, but not entirely expectant. Ty just smiled, nervously, down at her and squeezed tightly one more time. Carol's cheek nuzzled his gloriously wide frame. He felt so soft and strong at once; safe and comfortable and not the least bet threatening. He relaxed her so much. After the hug, they sat, ready to go. When gunshots sang out in the distance, they revved engines to life. 

Three people wedged in the front seat of the truck's cab with Carol, five jumped in the pickup's bed. The other five dove into the car with Ty. There was no time for pleasantries or congratulations to go around. Carol and Tyreese spun the vehicles round and headed back up the tracks, away from Terminus. 

They split up at a small, one lane road that crossed the tracks. Ty drove right, Carol left. That was their first step at losing any Terminus pursuit. Each driver had long, multiple detoured trips back to the mega church. They even abandoned the car Tyreese drove, siphoning out all of the gas, to make it appear they'd run out and had to go on foot. In fact, after about a mile of walking through the trees, there was a pile of dead bodies from the church scattered about as if attacked. After kicking up as much commotion as they could, to make it look like the worst fate had befallen most of them, they continued on. Finally, Ty’s group came across a gravel road where Carol waited to take them all to the mega church in her truck, after filling it up with gas from Tyreese's car.

It was slow going, the truck was weighed down to capacity for sure with 13 full grown adults and Carl. They had an extended cab. Carl, Bob, and Sasha wedged in the back behind Carol, Rick, Glenn and Maggie- who was in Glenn’s lap- not that either minded. Carol was so focused on the road and the safety of her cargo that she didn’t even remember to tell Rick and Carl that Judy was alive! No one really talked the whole way from the gravel road to the mega church. Everyone was coming down and exhausted from the adrenaline rush. 

Being loud and rowdy in celebration would be a bit dangerous at this point, especially with half of them in the bed of a truck, exposed to the open air. Ty reached his hand in though the truck cab's back window to grip Sasha’s shoulder. She turned her head as best she could to look at him and clutched his hand for dear life, tears spilling down her cheeks and whispered prayers of praise on her lips. 

Beth sat draped over Daryl, partially in his lap. Her back was in one of the truck bed’s corners; his back against the adjacent wall. Her head sank on his shoulder and his cheek rested in a nest of her hair. They clung to each other not in a sexual way, but a dreamy daze. They both nearly dozed off in one another’s arms. Beth idly thought, for a moment, she was glad Maggie and Glenn were in the cab. Then she chided herself: Glenn was cool with her and Daryl. No reason to believe Maggie wouldn’t be! She sighed deeply, almost nodding off completely; softly inhaling the dusty leather of Daryl's vest. 

\--------- 

The darkness of the late night, still a few hours before dawn, hung heavy around the mega church when they parked. It made the whole compound look creepy and intimidating, really. The entire group entered the double church doors, to the main worship hall, like a congregation come for Sunday meeting. Eugene had busied himself in their absence, as instructed, making the place look somewhat welcoming for the newcomers. He lit more candles than were necessary, about an hour after the rescue party left. Now, the room shimmered in a golden hue. It was heavenly, Beth thought. And silent and empty, she noticed, Eugene must have gone to sleep somewhere? 

Rick was impressed and the first to speak up: 

“What do you know? An actual sanctuary for our… sanctuary…” his rough, almost coughing, laughter was cut off in an instant by the squeal of baby Judy, entering the cathedral strapped to a stranger's chest. 

"I believe this is yours?" Eugene was already unstrapping her carrier. 

"Judith?" Carl choked her name and scampered toward the strange man holding out his baby sister. 

"My baby?" Rick's voice was a low breath of shock, "Is... is that my baby?" Carol walked up and put a hand on Rick's elbow. 

"Tyreese rescued little Judy, kept her alive. I found him and the girls not long after the prison. She's been great company for us ever since," Carol cooed as the baby was jiggled in Carl's fascinated embrace. 

"The... girls?" Rick asked, not missing a word she'd said. 

"Yes," Tyreese came up and waved a finger at the baby, "Mika and Lizzie got out with me. Bad things happened. We lost both of them. They are buried at a nice house about a day's walk down the tracks, North, I think."

Rick finally lifted his daughter high in the air above his face, examining her up and down with a broad smile. "You had me worried, baby girl," he crooned. 

"Lil' Ass Kicker's a better survivor than the lot of us," Daryl smiled, clapping Rick on the shoulder. 

"She carries on like any baby ever did," Ty said, "It is amazing just watching her live day to day. Nothing's changed for her."

Beth looked across the sanctuary at her sister, smothering Glenn. Had Maggie even noticed Beth yet? Oh well. She was forgiven. It was so late and everyone was so tired. 

“Is anybody hungry?” Rosita asked as everyone was flopping down on pews and leaning on each other for support. “There is a lot of food in the kitchen, if we work together, we can make a fairly big meal, really quick!” 

\------------

The red-eyed, bleary, early AM pot luck- what Taco Bell had once dubbed ‘Fourth Meal’- was a feast. Canned fruits, veggies, hot squirrel and canned meat, even dessert; practically all the food groups! Descending upon the kitchen, everyone found something to make or set up together. The contents of the kitchen caused many exclamations of joy and excitement by the former Terminus captives. 

Beth and Maggie got their embrace in, finally. Maggie just cried and laughed. Beth wouldn't let go. It was too soon for many words. Just the feeling of holding each other again was more than a million sentences could ever have expressed for them. 

Michonne hugged Daryl just as tight, without all the tears. He was happy to oblige hugging her back. She seemed very different, much more open and smiley. But then, he assumed he must seem that way to her, too. He noticed how she beamed around Carl and Rick. Did he beam around Beth that same way? Now he was sure to be in love with her, did it show? Could people tell?

Everyone was at pass-out-o'clock not long after the feast, which was eaten right there in the kitchen as it was made. Beth caught a second (or third?) wind and decided to play music on the piano in the chapel. Daryl was so happy they’d found another piano for her. When was he going to tell her what he’d realized back at Terminus? He was afraid, still, to say it out loud, to make it real for both of them. He lay stretched out in a pew, his eyes closed, just drinking in her song. 

She was tingling the keys slowly, too slow for what she remembered as the passionate beat of the song stuck in her head. They used to play it on the radio all the time, on the Classic 80s/90s station. It was Madonna, of course, the queen of that era. And it was appropriate for the post-apocalypse church setting, in an odd sort of way. Beth’s voice was too sweet and lovely for the ferocity of the lyrics, but she made it her own, soothing out "Like a Prayer" as a love sonnet with her soft voice and the gentle notes beneath her fingers. A few lines reminded her especially of Daryl and she could feel his eyes on her as she sang: 

"Just like a muse to me,  
You are a mystery.  
Just like a dream,  
You are not what you seem..."

People drifted off in their own directions. Guard shifts were assigned, doors boarded up, exterior alarms checked. There were two ways to access the roof, for maintenance of the bells in the tower and from the vast attic. So those on watch, watched from the roof. They could see everything. Eugene, who got plenty of sleep alone in the nursery with the baby, while the others did the rescuing, was assigned to first guard watch with Bob, who slept out a good portion of the night in “A” at Terminus. Everyone involved in the rescue could get a few hours shut-eye before work began in earnest after the sun came up. There was so much to do to further fortify this place.

Overall, it was a great set up, especially for a group their size. Neither Beth nor Daryl had any complaints. They had an entire bunk room to themselves, which they selected out of the way of the others’.

Even so, Daryl covered her mouth while she was coming. She came so hard. Must be all the adrenaline from the rescue combined with eating real food for once? When it was his turn, she swallowed him for the first time, which was unbelievable. Her perfect little mouth on him… God, is this why the world ended? So he could have this? And he smirked at himself, using God’s name, in a church, for _this_ reason. Still, he'd never have found a good girl like her before. Not ever.

They'd just finished, dozed off almost immediately, in each other's arms; crammed up in that little bunk. But in what felt like 30 minutes, no more than an hour, of deep, dreamless, exhaustion-sleep, they were on one another again! He'd slept naked, a first since before the apocalypse. As Daryl woke, he realized how fucking awesome it was to be cool and naked between two thin sheets; head on a real pillow. Thank God for the church, he smiled to himself.

She woke him by running her finger nails lightly down his spine. He lay on his stomach. Her legs were clasping his hip and the wetness between them slicked onto his outer thigh. He wet his chapped lips with his tongue, enjoying the shivers she sent through him and the fresh smell that was all his.

"Damn, lover," he grunted, face down in the pillow. And looking up at her: "Can't get enough, huh?" 

\-----------------

Beth had 'fuck me' eyes! She knew she did. She'd learned how to do them. Being with Daryl and wanting Daryl was enough to just sort of naturally learn your 'fuck me' eyes and how to use them. And she used them now. Her lover looked at her wearily; with sleep fading his perfect narrow eyes. She didn't say anything. Just smiled and stared at him with her new, improved eyes. This was silly. They needed to sleep. But did they really? Wasn't this more fun? Didn't they need this too? Beth felt the heated action of the rescue, of Daryl taking charge in the group, of her damn-near killing a man who attacked her- without Daryl’s help! All of that, combined with her overwhelming relief at her sister’s survival and the energy of a good meal, pulsed a rampant desire coursing through the tendons along her pelvic muscles. 

They'd have to go on watch soon, up on that cold ass metal roof. She needed to warm up again, then sleep again, before their watch. She blinked and turned up the volume on her gaze, right into him, as he was waking up, more and more, looking at her. He caught it. When she absently bit her lips at him, she could still taste his shaft and his cum there. And she let him know it, with just her eyes. 

Daryl whistled a shallow breath and cocked his brow at her enjoyment of his seed still on her mouth. He raised a hand to stroke her from shoulder to hip, lingering on her butt cheek, cupping it, kneading a little bit, sliding a pinkie right in between her butt cheeks, high up, almost at the top, where her lower back started. He wiggled it a little, teasing and embarrassing her. She giggled and pushed his hand away with a weak, playful “stop!”

Afterwards, passing out again, they drifted away to imaginings of each other and the night and the watch shift that awaited them.

___________________

Eugene came to wake them after the sun had risen and yellow light filled their room. Bob was still on the roof, waiting for them. The blaring brightness of the sun and its reflection on the metal roof was too much when they opened the attic hatch. Beth scurried back down to get a hat to shade her eyes for the next four hours. When she returned, she caught Daryl and Bob talking. 

“… whole lot of nothing out here overnight,” Bob was finishing his thought. As he met Beth at the stair hatch, he turned, remembering: “Daryl, need to tell you something before I head to bed,” he yawned. 

“Hmm?” 

“Rick’s putting the old prison council back in place. Starting this afternoon. You’ll get a chance for lunch, then Sasha says you meet not long after. When that big new guy and his girlfriend are on guard shift. You’ll talk about what to do next. Where we go from here, you know?” 

“Rick gonna be on the council this time?”

“Yes. He said as much. There’ll be a vote about including any of the new folks. But we’ve got most of the council here, you know? Might as well be civilized again, after all these weeks roughing it,” 

“I guess so,” Daryl shrugged.

Beth interjected, before Bob could get downstairs, “What do you mean ‘where we go from here’?” she asked, looking from Bob to Daryl, “Certainly Rick isn’t thinking of packing up and hitting the road again after we found a place as good as this one!” 

Bob yawned once more and tried to focus on her, “That’s why they’re gonna talk about it. Bet lots of people will have different opinions, right?” He disappeared down the roof hatch and closed it behind him not letting another word be spoken. 

“Daryl!” Beth wheeled on him. 

“Don’t be too loud, babe. Gotta listen for Terminus people come lookin’ for us and the like. I know you din’t do watches at the prison, nor much since, and I appreciate you doin’ shift with me, but we gotta take this serious, a’ight?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Daryl Dixon?!” she spat in a shrill temper. “How many times was I on watch while you slept, when it was just the two of us?! Huh? Don’t talk down to me! I want you to recommend me for the council. I have a lot to say on this subject and I want to have a voice on the committee. I think I’ve earned it. Tell them to give me my Daddy’s place!” She waited in the stillness for his reply. 

Daryl never looked at her as she spoke, just kept his eyes and ears on their surroundings. But he heard her. He nodded in acknowledgement of what she said. “Sorry for putting you down. Wasn’t right. Didn’t mean it, jus… this ain’t the time to be talkin’ ‘bout this shit,” then he did look at her, with serious eyes, “Please?” 

“Fine,” she sighed, defeated by those pleading baby blues in the shine of early morning, “But we’re talking ‘bout this before you go to council. And promise me, right now, you’ll recommend me for Daddy’s old seat?”

He nodded: “Promise.”

\-----------------------------

After the watch, over a quick lunch in the kitchen, they talked. Beth was satisfied Daryl had her back. He gave her a peck on the lips and slid off to chat up Carol and maybe Rick before the council meeting. Daryl promised he’d gauge everyone’s feelings on staying or going and he’d recommend Beth for her father’s council chair. 

Then Beth spotted the only other person she knew she could depend on. 

"Maggie! Hey Sis!" she called after the red head down the hall. 

"Bethie!" she turned, "Sorry we haven't had any time alone," folding Beth in another hug like last night's, the embrace of long lost sisters. Beth breathed in that familial feeling of home. She felt her father, his energy, there with them and between them. Confidence in her opinion warmed Beth with happy thoughts of living here at the church for a while, among her remaining family. 

"It's alright, Mags. I just wanted to catch you before the council," 

"Yeah? Everything okay? Do you need anything?"

"Yes. I was hoping you'd persuade Glenn to vote not to leave this place for a while,"  
Maggie tensed up and stepped away from their hug. 

"What? I... sis, I can't... I don't want to be so close to Terminus. I want to be far away from here. We have vehicles; we can find another place like this!" 

"Mags! No! I can't take being on the run anymore. Can you? Really?!" 

"We're not safe here, Bethie. I just know we're not. There's no kind of protection, no walls, no fences, for heaven’s sake!" 

"We didn't have that at home! And this whole crew and more lived on the farm all that time!" 

"We had the swampy creek the geeks couldn't cross and a lot of land on all sides, so we could see them coming and get out when the big herd came. We're surrounded by woods here! Whoever was here before us clearly met a tragic end..." Beth was shaking her head 'no' over and over. "What? Beth? You know I'm right!"

"Maggie, please! What about Lil' Ass Kicker? Even if we just stay here a few weeks, the baby needs that time to get healthy and well-nourished again!"

"Lil' Ass Kicker? Since when do you call her that? That's what Daryl calls her, right?" 

Maggie was trying to change the subject. Beth wouldn't let her. 

"Not just the baby, we all need to restock our reserves, physically, mentally, emotionally..."

"We can do that somewhere else, further away n’ safer!" 

"You act like there's safe places around every corner! How long will it take us to find anywhere better than this? Will we have enough gas? Or end up on foot again? What if we get attacked between here and there? Find worse humans or more walkers? What if...?"

"What if those Terminus people, with all their guns, ammo, vehicles and supplies come barging in here?!" Maggie was suddenly borderline hysterical. "I'm not going through another attack like the prison! I'm not watching anyone else get revenge-executed right in front of me!" She clung to Beth's shoulders, shaking her slightly. "We killed some of their people! They are coming for us; like the Governor. We need to be in another state! I wanna be far away as possible. We've got too many enemies here! I want a fresh start… like you do... And I promise we'll find it. But it's not gonna be so close to _two_ different places where I was held prisoner by crazy assholes! You hear?!"

Beth knew she couldn’t fully understand how Maggie felt. She couldn’t imagine being held captive like that once, let alone twice. But the intensity of her sister's emotions scared her. She tried something else: 

"Maggie, you need some time to heal," Beth leaned in and looked up into Maggie's eyes, "You haven't stopped running since the prison, have you? You wouldn't believe how good just one week of down-time is for you. Daryl and I spent a week in a suburban house we boarded up properly. It changed everything! I've been so much better ever since!" Beth couldn't hide the slightest grin and blush about just _how much_ had changed in that house. 

Maggie picked up on it right away. Her eyes widened in something like horror:  
"You shacked up with Daryl for a week?!" 

But right at that moment, Glenn came up behind them and insisted Maggie join him, so they wouldn't be late for the meeting. 

“Wait, what?!” Beth gasped, “You’re both on the council, now?” 

“Yes,” Maggie said bluntly, “Rick gave me Daddy’s chair,” 

Beth was speechless, her throat clenched against a sob. 

Maggie shot her a scolding, disappointed look. There was a very uncomfortable lecture in Beth's future about her week with Daryl Dixon. Maggie didn't break that harsh stare until she was around the corner and out of sight with Glenn. 

This was too much! 

Indignation and righteous anger flooded Beth’s senses; quaking her insides. She’d barely reunited with Maggie and now they were at war- on two different fronts! 

Beth decided she needed to steel herself, hard, and prepare for the fight. She’d have to put Maggie in her place. The thought of shouting Maggie down about Daryl, the way she had Glenn, made her stomach turn. Beth planned on using Glenn as the messenger. She assumed they would totally avoid a conversation about Daryl, because Glenn would've explained things to Maggie by now. 

Apparently, Glenn and Maggie were too busy for anything concerning their baby sister.

Beth didn't mention the Terminus signs in this argument; she'd missed her chance. But last night she heard Bob and Sasha ask Glenn if he'd seen the signs Maggie left along the train tracks. The notes told him to follow them to Terminus. They thought that's how Glenn found them. Beth tensed up, knowing she wasn't supposed to be part of their conversation. But all three spotted her, knew she'd heard, and looked at her with an embarrassed pity. She scooted away before any of them made excuses for Maggie, who was using the facilities at the time. 

Now her sister was fighting her on staying at the church _and_ acting all uppity about Daryl! Beth fumed at not throwing those Glenn-notes in her face. 

Her _only_ living relative kept Beth out of the "come find me" letters! 

Beth didn't even tell Daryl. She didn't want him to have a reason to fight with Maggie. She realized her lover was now caught up in two fights with her sister- and he didn’t even know it! Man. Beth needed the council to be over for a million reasons at once! She wanted to run in there herself, break it up so she could get all her drama out of the way; then plead her case for staying at the mega church- at least for a week. But she wasn't supposed to. Beth had to respect Rick's process. Didn't she? Wasn't Rick partially responsible for her father's death? She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She just needed to talk to her sister. And that would have to wait. 

Beth needed a distraction. So, she went to the nursery, to play with and care for Lil’ Ass Kicker. Carl was there, too. They shared their stories of survival since the prison. The harrowing adventures, reconnecting with her old friend, kept Beth’s mind off her Maggie and Daryl problems. 

\------------

Daryl had no such luck. He was caught completely off guard by Maggie’s animosity. She didn’t respond when he greeted her as she came in; gave him a glare, instead, for his effort. He kicked himself, too. Because Glenn was bringing Maggie to the meeting, that must mean he could’ve brought Beth. She wanted to have her say so bad, he almost went to fetch her. But Rick was calling things to order. Maggie scowled at him from across the table when he sat down between Carol and Rick. Daryl didn’t appreciate her attitude. He wished she’d just say whatever the hell was on her damn mind. But he figured it wasn’t right to air their dirty laundry at the council meeting. 

Then Daryl was dismayed and surprised to learn Rick appointed Maggie to Hershel’s position out of the blue.

“Ain’t that sumtin’ we oughta’ve voted on, Rick?” Daryl protested. Sasha nodded her head in agreement, noticeably eyeing Carol. 

“Sorry,” Rick looked low and sheepish, his hand scratching the back of his head, “When I decided to put the council back in place, I reinstated Carol, not asking y’all. Then Maggie wanted her father’s spot. Didn’t think there’d be objections to any o’ that. Sorry again. Didn’t mean ta’ take the whole thing over. Just know I need to be here, this time. Was wrong to stick ya’ll with everything before,” he looked up, “Should we vote, or somethin’?” 

Glenn cleared his throat. “Yes. That’d be best. First, is there any discussion about Rick’s adjustments to the council membership?”

Carol stood: “I apologize to you all. I took matters in my own hands at the prison and acted without talking to the council about options. I didn’t think we had time for a vote. I put Karen and David out of their misery and tried to contain the virus so it wouldn’t spread. If y’all want me off the council for it, I understand.” She sat back down, looking right at Sasha. 

Sasha returned the gaze, “I respect my brother, Carol. I forgive you, too. I mean it. But I do think you’re too loose-cannon for the council.”

“Carol?” Glenn spoke after a few beats of silence, “Will you step outside as we vote on your reinstatement to the council?” Carol squeezed Daryl’s knee under the table, stood, and looked at him with that knowing smile of hers before walking out. Daryl loved that crazy woman. Damn, it was so much easier for him to admit such things these days. Beth really worked him over. And he thought sadly of her not being able to represent her father here today. 

The vote was conducted. Only four people could vote, as Maggie was not officially a member of the council, yet. It was a tie, 2 to 2. 

“Well, shucks,” Rick said, “Guess we need Maggie, huh?” and he laughed a little. 

“Or someone,” Daryl shrugged. 

“You got a problem with me being here, Daryl?” Maggie asked as calmly as possible. Her face betrayed her, though. She scowled, still. 

“Beth wanted your Daddy’s seat, is all,” he said plainly, with zero aggression. 

“Well, I’m eldest. I’ve got more experience with our group’s survival than she does,” Maggie made her case to everyone around the table.

“Beth ain’t some dumb little girl. She was a major player in your rescue, you recall,” Daryl was trying in vain to match Maggie’s disingenuous tone. 

"Thanks for bringing Terminus up, Daryl!” Maggie shifted gears very quickly, “We don’t need to be spending our time voting on the makeup of this council! I don't want to spend another minute this close to Terminus. They gotta be coming for us, guys! They ain't stupid!" Maggie pleaded, standing and beating the table with both hands for emphasis.

"What about Beth?!” Daryl stayed seated, still trying for the composure play. He had promised to bring up his lover's concerns, after all. He just meant to do it differently than this: “What about what she wants?" 

"I don't see how that's any of your damn business, Daryl fucking Dixon!" Maggie shot back. She moved in her spot like she meant to march up in his face, but stood her ground, thinking better of it. Daryl bristled hard, wanting to shout her down. Instead, he looked at Glenn for back-up.

Glenn was too slow, because Maggie continued: "Am I crazy or did you spend the night in the same room with my baby sister?" Daryl kept his eyes to the side, averted from every one. Maggie didn't intimidate him. He just knew if he opened his mouth, it wouldn't shut until many things he'd regret came spilling out. His rage was growing, though. It was physically visible. He finally settled cold eyes on Glenn's, who nodded. 

"Babe, let's take a walk," Glenn gently held out a hand for her to join him. When she hesitated, he placed that hand lovingly on her upper arm and pulled just a twitch toward him. She responded and turned away from the meeting, storming out ahead of Glenn. He turned back to everyone with a face of apology before darting after her.

Carol poked her head back in. “Meeting adjourned all ready?” she asked with a smirk. 

“No, not yet,” Rick sighed. Maybe he’d bit off more than he could chew here. Things were easier when he was the only one making the rules. But that did make him crazy, too. Made him a bad father. He needed balance. The council would have to work. “Come on in real quick, Carol, and discuss this issue of whether we stay at the church or not with us,” he motioned for her. 

“We don’t know if you’re on the council yet,” Sasha offered, “Maggie was gonna be the deciding vote, but now we can’t agree on whether Maggie should be here either,” she turned to Rick and Daryl, “For my part, I don’t think _either_ Beth or Maggie should get Hershel’s seat. Maggie is Glenn’s wife and Beth might as well be Daryl’s, from what I can tell,” Rick’s eyes shot surprise on Daryl, who only shrugged. Sasha continued: “That creates nepotism in the voting. Give Hershel’s seat to Glenn. He has seniority on the council anyway, and he’s Hershel’s son-in-law. Then fill Glenn’s seat with someone who’s not directly related to any current council members.”

“Makes sense to me,” Daryl admitted.

“I agree with Sasha, whether I’m on the council or not,” Carol offered, “except, I’d leave the question of who succeeds Hershel up to his kin. Have his seat go to either Maggie, Beth or Glenn. Let them decide, as they’re his heirs. Then take nominations from the group at-large for Glenn’s seat.”

“I like that better, too,” Sasha agreed, “That gives the girls a chance, since they both want it so badly.” 

“I agree,” Daryl muttered. 

“We’ll see what Glenn says when he gets back, but I think it’s pretty unanimous among us. Y'all put together a fair plan, there. Now, to this business of staying in the church or not…”

“I vote we stay,” Daryl said with finality, “Least for a while. Need the down time, you know? Gather supplies n’ such if we’re gonna make a long-distance break for it. Give us a week or two, at least, to figure out where we even want to go- if we're leavin'. Can't be just drivin' off blind, goin' nowhere. But I wouldn’t mind buildin' walls and defenses round this place. Making a go of it for the long haul. Up to y’all. I just ain’t 'bout to pack up and leave a good thing right off.”

“I’m terrified of the people at Terminus, just like Maggie is," Sasha sighed, "I don’t want us all separated again like the prison, either. But, I also think the way we fled Terminus was smart. It’d be hard to find us. We could have gone anywhere! Look at how long it took us to find each other in such a small area, geographically! They may assume we’re long gone, fled very far away; since they knew we had vehicles," she paused, thoughtful, "Plus, are we even worth it for them? They seem to have this whole system of bringing in new prisoners all the time. Can they afford to drop the act long enough to hunt for us in every possible direction to get their revenge? The Terminus people weren’t a dictatorship like Woodbury, not as far as I could tell. They may have a lot of resources, like Woodbury, but they may not have the myopic crazed agenda of a single psycho to just drop everything and come for revenge, either.”

“Very good points, Sasha,” Rick scratched his beard, “As you spent time in both Woodbury and Terminus, I value your opinion, very much.” 

“Thank you,” Sasha smiled, “Maggie was a mess at Terminus. She was all rage and hate and never slept. She sees it as exactly the same as Woodbury, because she was taken captive by both places. I was on the other side of the fence at Woodbury. I really got a feel for the place. I can guarantee they didn't feed their prisoners. And, at Terminus, we didn't get the crap beat out of us like Glenn and Maggie did at Woodbury! Though I didn’t get a very long look at the leadership system of Terminus, I can tell just from the surface that their administration and their goals are very different than the Governor’s.”

"I'd have to agree with you, there," Rick said, "From what I saw, the vibe was still bad, evil-like, but very different." 

“All the more reason to stay here and heal before we take our chances on the road again,” Carol offered. “Sasha and Daryl are right. We don’t forget Terminus is a nearby threat, and we prepare for it. But we also don’t go throwing ourselves into the dangerous world again, unprepared and malnourished like we all are, on a wing and a prayer that we’ll find someplace better than here before we run out of gas.”

“I agree,” Rick said, “we heal up, then scavenge this place dry before heading out. Also, we make a more solid get-away plan in case the worst happens, so we don't all end up lost and apart again. I’ll talk to the group at-large tonight, in the sanctuary. Before that, I’ll catch up with Glenn, Beth and Maggie. Alright?”

“Sounds good,” Daryl grunted.

“So, meeting adjourned?” Sasha asked.

Rick looked sadly out the door where Glenn and Maggie had disappeared. “Yeah,” he said, “We’ll finish up with everyone else getting to voice their thoughts in a few hours.” 

“Good,” Daryl stood, “Mind if I go out hunting for a bit ‘o small game? Won’t be more’n a few hours.” 

“No. No problem, be back before dark. I need you at this big group, town hall kinda thing,” Rick smiled. As Daryl exited, Rick caught him up and grabbed his shoulder. Daryl turned and raised a brow. 

“You n' Beth might as well be married?” Rick grinned, looking Daryl dead in the eye, much as Daryl tried to avoid the gaze, “Take Beth with you. Catch her up on all this. Just in case Glenn and Maggie give her Hershel’s chair. Which I doubt they will. But I’ll deal with them. Probably best for Beth not to be around. Sounds like she’s got all sorts of problems with them.”

“What’d’ya mean?” Daryl’s eyes squinted. 

“You didn’t know about the Terminus signs?” Sasha chirped, still over at the table, though having heard everything. It was a small meeting room after all. Daryl’s squinted eyes turned on her. He tilted his head just a hair. “Maggie left signs for Glenn all over the railroad tracks, telling Glenn to meet her in Terminus. She didn’t once leave a note for Beth. We were asking Glenn about it last night and Beth overheard. I felt so bad! I know Maggie was just in shock and overwhelmed! People do crazy things when they go through a trauma like she did losing her Dad that way…” Sasha trailed off. 

“Thanks for telling me,” Daryl sighed and left without another word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters' argument is my own.  
> Should they stay or should they go?  
> If I do a Part 3 of No Cars' series, I want to explore what happens between the players during some much-needed down-time. Keep them safe for a few weeks or months, before they inevitably have to bail.  
> Something like Season 2, without all the love-triangle and baby drama.  
> But would that be too boring to read? And is that even possible where they are now? What do you think? Thanks for any comments and opinions on this question!  
> ~Sintina  
> 


	16. At the Beginning... With You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And life is a road, and I want to keep going!  
> Love is a river, I want to keep flowing.  
> .....  
> In The End,  
> I want to be standing...  
> At the Beginning...  
>  _With You."_
> 
> Donna Lewis - At The Beginning Lyrics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Exhale* All Done!  
> For now?  
> ~Help me answer the question of should they stay or should they go (and whether you care if there's a No Cars Part 3) in the comments, below.~  
> Thank You All _so much_ for reading! If you haven't checked out "CLAIMED!" yet, please give it a look.  
>  _Very_ different story from No Cars.  
>  Love and hugs,  
> ~Sintina

It all came to a head when they left the others and set out to hunt. 

They were stubbornly silent, lost in their own thoughts and emotions, for the first half hour. 

Before they left, Beth ran into Maggie and Glenn. She wasn’t proud of the way she’d accosted them. They walked past the door of the nursery, heading toward the bunk rooms; probably their own, to talk privately. Beth set Judy down in the play pen and stomped after them. 

She caught up and started right in about the "come find me" Terminus signs; everything she’d wanted to say to Maggie before the council meeting. Then, without pause, she nailed her sister with the surprise betrayal of Maggie taking Daddy’s council spot without even thinking Beth might want it! Or maybe deserved it! 

Maggie stammered a comeback attacking Beth and Daryl’s age-inappropriate relationship, and for that matter, why hadn’t Beth told her about it? Beth really lost it. She said at least Daryl was protecting her, taking care of her, there for her. At least Daryl remembered she existed! 

Man, did Beth regret that. In the apocalypse, you don’t have time to say such hurtful things. Any moment might be the last time you see someone. Maggie burst into tears, grabbed Beth, hugging her for dear life and apologizing sloppily through her sobs. Daryl came up on them, then. He and Glenn exchanged some sort of dude code in silence and pulled the women apart, dragging them off in opposite directions. Beth called to Maggie that she loved her anyway, even if she was an insensitive moron sometimes! And Maggie sobbed a laugh back at her, returning the love and swearing they’d talk more later. 

Now, Beth’s anger at Maggie, at Glenn, at anyone who’d want to leave this great place without taking a breather when they had the chance; combined with her relief that maybe she and her sister resolved some of this shit between them; all the emotions of the entire day, consumed her. Not to mention last night! It still hadn’t even been 24 hours since they lay siege to Terminus! Everything overflowed her senses. 

She could take no more of it. She was either going to collapse in a pool of rage and cry it out, or… find another outlet for all this aggressive energy. She smiled sinfully, eyeing the back of Daryl up and down. This angry needfulness inside was alien to Beth and she felt waves of perverse pleasure at how she was stalking after her lover like prey. 

Daryl wasn’t much better off. He was carelessly stomping through the trees, only shooting at squirrels they scared up with all their noise and not even trying to track nothing else. Damn Maggie! Daryl couldn’t stand the hurt she’d caused today. He got that she was crazy emotional right now, everybody was! But he always respected Maggie, back in the day, for being able to rein that shit in. Hell, she handled the whole Woodbury thing way better than Glenn after they got rescued! For whatever reason, the experience at Terminus made her lose it. And she, more than anyone, needed the down-time her own sister, his Beth, was advocating for. The whole hypocrisy of it made his head hurt. That and the fact his face had been clenched up in a ball of frustration all this time. He was fed up since he found Glenn trying in vain to handle hysterical Maggie and pissed off Beth. He wished he could kill something big. Wished he had time to find a fucking deer. Or a big 'ol wild pig. Yeah, that'd be the shit, right about now.

Beth scooped up and bagged the fourth squirrel he shot. Daryl retrieved the bolt and checked it for damage. 

He’d been avoiding looking at her or talking to her; since he was kind of pissed at her, too. Why didn’t she tell him about the damn signs Maggie made for Glenn? Why not share that with him? Not like it was some secret. Seemed like everyone in the damn place knew 'bout it but him.

Daryl finally turned away from the hunt to look at her. Her visage stopped his thoughts. He saw the savagery in her eyes. Seeing Beth’s unbridled dark lust for the first time shot straight through to his testicles like the fresh scent of her snatch. His eyes narrowed at her, almost threateningly. Daryl turned to fully face her, bowed up, in acceptance of her challenge. 

Leaping onto him, Beth clawed at the back of Daryl’s shirts, vest and jacket, her mouth hanging open and lustfully panting dirty little nothings at him. Her body surged with the need of him, pounding, throbbing through her blood stream. Daryl sucked at her neck, lapping up her sweat and pheromones; and biting hard in response to her rabid animalistic gasps. He firmly clutched each of her ass cheeks and carried her around. Daryl watched over her shoulder as he gorged himself in her skin, looking for a place to toss her down and ravage her. This was nuts. This was torturous. He was so hard he’d break his dick off in her if he could. It ached and burned against his zipper throbbing under her pelvis. He'd never felt something quite like this. Hell, they'd just had sex some 8 or 9 hours ago!

“Daryl! God! I’ve never needed anything so bad as you fucking me right now!” She growled tremors right into his ear canal, every tiny internal hair on end. He lost it. Slamming her hard into the nearest tree, he tore at his hateful pants and hers. 

Beth howled exhilaration when she connected with the tree. Though her body winced and tensed under him at the pain of the bark when it hit her frail, smooth back. Her noises were vigorous hunger. Beth clenched her fingers deep into his muscles. One arm locked hard over his, fingers digging in the bicep. The other, behind him, under his shirt, tearing into his lower back. She wanted him to know the ferocity she felt for him. She wanted him to feel the pleasurable pain, too; have marks from her like the bruises she’d, no doubt, have along her spine. 

He felt just what she wanted him to feel and more. As he finally got both of their pants and her underwear out of the way, he thrust himself hard between her thighs, but not inside. Her muscles clenched around him, almost trying to force him where she wanted him to be. Daryl admired her frenzy against his own. Beth matched him even in this situation. Here he was, completely the carnal caveman brute, about to take what was his, hard as he could, in the woods. His woman met that hostility and gave all of it back. 

She amazed him.

“I love you, Beth,” he confessed in a growled prayer directly in her ear. She shot a look of surprise mixed with longing -so deep- directly into his soul. He saw her eyes soften suddenly, like she might tear up, her mouth a messy, gaping smile just for him. Then he took that very moment to thrust into her, all the way, high and far as he could with a grunt and his own playful smile just for her. 

Beth cried out in rapture at the combined feeling of love and lust, body and soul, all at once, all for her and from Daryl. Her Daryl. The intensity of him all the way inside, where he’d stopped. Now, they only lightly ground against each other, purely instinctually, eyes closed, heads held tightly against one another’s. Three or four silent tears streamed down each of her cheeks. Beth’s body a vibrating aura, no longer just a physical thing. This sex, this man, this moment, was transcendent. 

She planted her cheek against his wonderful pulsating shoulder. How could she feel his pulse through all this fabric? Perhaps his aura was vibrating to? Both of them together and transient, outside time and space? 

She nuzzled her face into his neck and whispered like her very breath depended on it: 

“Daryl, I swear, I love you too.” 

The sex against that tree. It was a blur of aggressive tension and blissful release; of sweat and of spirit. Noises so innate, so inhuman, so new to both of them. They were educating each other and fucking each other. They'd later deem this “love-fucking” to combine the terms love-making and just plain old, hard core, fucking. This was both. It was entirely both. It was alien and new to either of them. It was wholly their own. 

They couldn’t keep their clothes on. In tearing off the universe’s paltry attempts to keep them separate, they couldn’t stay up against that tree, either. Thwacking their tender bare skin into the unforgiving bark was not working. Daryl twirled. Yes, he twirled; and the motion made Beth laugh out loud and cling all her inner muscles around him, hard, giggling into his neck. There was nowhere to set her down. He kicked a pile of their dejected garments together and lowered her into them. This would work. But he was going to bust the shit out of his knees, probably. 

They both did.

Completely naked and ignorant to the breeze’s attempts at chilling them, they fought one another for the right to cum first or most often. While she was riding him, Daryl pulled out of her fast and came hard in a pool on his own stomach and chest. Beth laughed at how silly he looked, embarrassed and frustrated with the mess. She bent down and began licking it up, so he’d feel better, her eyes on his, all the while. He was biting his lips and squeezing her hips, hard, as he watched the show. Then Beth readjusted herself, sat up and without asking or saying anything, quickly shoved him back inside her where he belonged.

“Ach!!,” he growled, trying to swivel his hips and painful prick out and away from her, “Beth… ah… it don’t work like that!... you… Ah… you can’t just… Ah…” his head fell back in ecstasy as she made him eat his words. His dick was so sensitive and raw from the fresh orgasm, but she was buttering it up again with juices. Kissing him with his cum on her breath- he couldn’t refuse her. He’d never done this before, never kept right on going after… this was insanity! It hurt and it was awesome at once. 

Neither of them were gonna be able to fucking walk after all this! Then all actual coherent thoughts finally fled him as she moved and worked and rose and fell and came again- was that her third or fourth time?- all over him. Finally sated, she rolled off and he cringed and ground his teeth as a second orgasm, without barely any cum, rocked through him. What sputtered out finally was like pre-cum, but the burning emptiness of his dick and balls in that second orgasm made him gasp hard. He liked it. He couldn’t deny he liked what she’d done to him. Definitely a first. 

Beth was so proud of herself, lying there spent. She curled into him, wrapping her body along one side of his, as he lay on his back. They loved each other. She’d known it before, of course. But now it was really spoken in words and in flesh between them. Beth knew she’d done something utterly new and amazing for him, too. She could feel it in the air around his skin and hear it in his ragged, choked heaves of attempted breaths. 

Her man needed to quit smoking if he was gonna keep loving her like this, she smiled to herself. 

“Girl, I gotta quit smokin’,” Daryl coughed and wheezed. She laughed and snuggled into him a little more. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her: 

“What are we gonna do about food? God, how long have we been out here?” Beth leaned up on an elbow, looking around them, like she was searching for a digital clock to miraculously appear on one of the bushes.

“Not long, don’t think,” Daryl looked up at the sun. “Nah. Not more’n a hour. And that with all the walkin’ to get out this far… so you could holler like that,” he teased. 

“Look! I needed you something awful. I ain’t ashamed,” Beth kissed his pectoral. 

“Yeah, so you said. What was that about?” Daryl rolled toward her and rested his head in his hand, raised up on an elbow. Felt natural, all of a sudden, just naked in the woods with her. Damn this girl worked him over, for sure. And the thought didn’t conjure up Merle’s voice! Daryl wasn’t even worried about walkers. An image of himself killing a few, buck ass naked, made his lips curl up slightly. 

“You laughing at me, Dixon?” Beth didn’t like the way he was smiling, like he was making fun of her problems, before she could even share them. 

“Oh… no… just thinkin’a killin’ geeks like this,” he nodded his chin down at his nakedness. 

Beth beamed at him. “That’s hilarious! I almost hope some come up on us now!” 

He half-grinned and nudged his face towards hers expectantly, “Seriously, tho’ what’s up wit’ ya?”

Beth sighed hard and heavy. Her problems seemed like faded memories, in a way, after all the goodness between them. “Ohhh… just my sister and everything, you know?” 

His eyes flicked to the side. “Yeah. S’gotta suck. Knowin’ she did all that crap for Glenn, not you,” 

Beth wasn't surprised he knew. "Sorry I didn't tell you, lover. Really. I just... I don't know... I thought it would all blow over for some reason," she sighed and turned her head to look up at the sky, “Plus the way she acted about you and me! I hope Glenn straightens that out while we’re gone,” 

“Me too,” Daryl grunted. He couldn’t fight Maggie the way he’d shouted Glenn down. He’d have to just stand there and take her abuse, he knew it. A protective arm draped over Beth’s tiny waist, at the thought. Under them, he felt little tickles of strings swaying against his bare skin. He scooted over and looked down at his winged vest. Little frayed edges and loose fibers were sticking out all over. An idea occurred to Daryl. “You braid stuff all the time, don’cha?”

She arched a brow, “Uh… just my hair… not like I go around braiding blades of grass for fun or something…” 

He snorted. “Here. Help me pull some strings outta our clothes,” he plucked a long white one from the wings as he said it. 

“Why?” 

“Got a job for ya,” was all he said, with a sly smile. 

Daryl and Beth dressed together. He left her there to go hunting on his own, which was faster and would make up for lost time. Beth leaned against the tree they’d christened and set about the task he gave her. The high sun of late afternoon warmed her and the cool shade of all the trees made the mood just right for the work she did. Her fingers hurt and fingernails were a bit too chipped, or non-existent, for the minutia of the task, but it was looking good, she decided.

When they made it back to the mega-church that evening, Daryl and Beth both wore rings on the appropriate finger of their left hands. Rings Beth braided of strings from each of their clothing. They'd sliced a little black cord of leather from his vest for hers and a brown leather strip from her boots for his. Plus, whites from the wings and blues from her jeans.

Let anyone say a cross word to either of them now! 

They smiled and held hands, entering the compound. 

Beth and Daryl now wore pieces of each other. And never took them off.


End file.
